It all Started with a Facial
by Sherlockian87
Summary: Molly thought that she was going to have a nice quiet night in, but Sherlock has other ideas. Hilarity, smut, and a tiny bit of angst ensue! (more of a description inside.)
1. It all Started with a Facial

**I bring you a brand new story!**

**This one is going to be quite different from my other ones ... basically this is quite cracky.**

**It's nutty and silly and I just have a really strange brain ok? **

**Just take it all with a bit of salt ... and don't take it too seriously ... this is for pure enjoyment!**

**It will be smutty ... let me tell you, it's gonna be smmmuuutttyyy ... so if that's not your thing ... uhm, leave now?**

**I have quite a lot of this written already so I'll try and update it twice a week ...**

**I just keeping coming up with new things to add and change, otherwise I would have started posting this a lot sooner!**

**Anyway ... hope you all enjoy this wild, silly ride ;)**

**(also, the smut doesn't exactly start until chapter three!)**

* * *

><p>Chapter One – It all Started with a Facial<p>

* * *

><p>Molly let out a loud shriek as the sound of her flat door slamming shut reverberated around her. She stomped out of the bathroom coming face to face with a tall, dark figure in a Belstaff.<p>

"What the Hell Sherlock? Save your dramatic entrances for the morgue! I don't need any complaints from my neighbors! What are you doing here anyway? I haven't heard from you in days."

The entire time she spoke he had stood there staring down at her, his mouth slightly opened.

"Why is your face all …" He gestured wildly, "Green?"

"Green? Oh." She brought her hands up to her cheeks but didn't touch them, "It's a face mask."

"Face mask?" He repeated slowly.

"Yeah, a face mask. It's avocado oatmeal, hence the colour."

The crinkle between his eyebrows, directly above his nose, appeared, "Bit early for Halloween don't you think?"

She gave him a weary look, "Not that kind of mask you dolt. It's for my skin. It helps clean out my pores."

"Ahh." He shrugged off his coat and unwound his scarf, moving to hang up both nearby the very door he had slammed.

"Staying the night then?" She had one hand resting on the wall, watching as he took off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a nearby chair, he then proceeded to slip off his shoes and remove his socks.

"Mmm … if you don't mind."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, "No. Not at all." But continued in her head, "There goes my nice, quiet night in!"

Suddenly he spun about and faced her, "Is this something you do often?" He gestured to her green skin.

"Uhhh no, not exactly. Meena told me about it. This is only my third time doing it."

"Hmmm." He walked towards her, his hands clasped behind his back, "You've noticed positive results from using it?" He stopped when he was directly before her, his hands falling back down to his sides.

"Yes, I have."

"Face mask." He muttered.

"Shocked you never heard of it, Mr. Ego the size of Baker Street." The look in her eyes was teasing, but also daring him to dispute her statement.

"I am not a narcissist." His tone fell a bit flat.

A smile twitched at the corner of her lips, "Didn't say you were." She strode around him, "You are a bit vain though." She muttered this, but he caught it anyway, his own mouth twitched. She had stepped back in to her bathroom, disappearing from his view; then stepped back out again, a jar in her hand, "Want to give it a try?" She waved the jar back and forth slightly.

"What?"

"The face mask, do you want to try it? It's really rather lovely. Makes your skin feel great, refreshed." Her eyes dropped to his feet then slowly moved upwards, taking him in completely, "You look as if you could use a bit of refreshing. Been on a case, have you?"

He threw his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together once more, his posture now ram-rod straight, "Yes. It was a nine, but I solved it."

"Course you did." She flourished the jar again, "Well?"

Thirty seconds of silence passed before, "All right, fine." His posture relaxed slightly. She returned to the bathroom and he followed.

"Sit." She pointed to the toilet. The lid was down. He did as she requested. She had placed the jar down on the sink counter and was now standing, facing him with her hands on her hips, "Do you object to me putting pins in your hair?"

His eyes widened, "What? YES!"

She rolled her eyes, "Knew it."

"Why would you need to do that?" He spat out the question, rather appalled by the thought.

She rolled her eyes again, "Because if I don't the cream will end up all in your curls!"

He leaned back slightly, "Oh." Five seconds of thought later, "Fine. Do it." He waved his hand about in a dismissive way. He grimaced slightly as she smiled, barely containing a giggle.

After grabbing a small handful of pins from her cabinet drawer, she set to working on his curls. Her mouth slowly screwed up tighter and tighter. He was surprised that she wasn't shaking from all of her contained laughter.

"Just let it out Molly, I know I must look ridiculous."

A snort erupted from her, followed by another one, "Just be grateful that Lestrade isn't here with his phone."

Sherlock only let out a sigh in response to this.

"There!" She announced taking a step back from him, "That's quite a look you've got going on." She snorted once more before bursting out into uncontrolled laughter, "I'm sorry Sherlock! I just can't take you seriously with you looking like this! And it's only going to get worse! Oh my God!" She doubled over, clutching at her side.

He glared at her, crossed his arms over his chest, and proceeded to pout. He would not, he refused to stand up and look at himself in the mirror, "Aren't you going to get on with it?" He nearly shouted, wondering how he had managed to allow himself to get into such a predicament.

She straightened, wiping away a few tears of mirth, "Right. Sorry. I'll be good now." She twisted the lid off of the jar and scooped out some of the cream with her fingers, "All right, tilt your head back slightly and look at me."

He did so, his eyes locking on hers. She may have kept her gaze attached to his if she didn't need to pay attention to what she was doing. It was strange to have her tower over him like this. It would seem that their roles had somehow been reversed. He flinched slightly as the coolness of the cream met his skin. She spread it lightly, deftly across his forehead. As time progressed, he found that he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. Now and again her gaze would flit back to his before returning to her task at hand. If he took her wrist and felt her pulse, he was certain it would be elevated. When she spread the last bit of cream on his face and stepped back he instantly missed the feel of her fingers. Neither of them spoke a word. She cleaned her hands off at the sink before closing the jar. He cleared his throat and suppressed the urge to scratch his nose.

He had to break the quiet; it had become unbearable, "Aren't you going to take yours off?"

"Oh no. Mine's not fully dry yet. You don't remove it until it's dry. Uhm … come on, let's go watch crap telly." She padded out of the bathroom.

Gone was the laughter, the giggling, the mirth. She seemed on edge now. Had his staring put her off? He couldn't have exactly helped it; there was no where else for him to look, unless he wanted to give himself eye strain, which he didn't. Realizing that he hadn't followed her out he quickly did so, blatantly ignoring the mirror as he switched off the light.

She was already sitting on the sofa, curled up, the remote in her hand. He sat down next to her, Toby instantly jumping up and making himself at home on his lap. She was changing the channels at abnormal speed, not exactly giving herself time to even notice what was on. Suddenly Sherlock took the remote from her, switching off the telly.

She stared at him, "What was that for?"

He tossed the remote on the coffee table before replying, "You weren't paying attention."

Huffing slightly she leaned her head back and glared at the ceiling.

"Did my staring bother you that much?" He asked her.

She kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, "It's not so much the staring as to how you were staring."

He narrowed his eyes, his brows coming together, "I was staring in a particular way?"

She at last turned her head and their gaze locked, "You were looking at me as if you had never seen me before. It was rather … unsettling." She grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest as she looked away from him.

"Ahh." He said this slowly as Toby purred away on his lap, "Well the truth is I have never seen you before look quite so … green." He gestured with his hand towards her face.

"That's a terrible excuse."

"It's the only one I've got."

"Don't give me excuses. Give me reasons, a reason."

They stared at each other silently for a few beats. Her expression was defiant, daring.

"Usually when you do look at me, it's to deduce something about me. But you said not a word."

His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, "I thought that my speaking would hinder you."

"You're fibbing. I can see it in your eyes. You are fibbing." She poked him in the arm, at last tearing her angry gaze from him.

"I …" He cleared his throat then started again, "I didn't speak because I don't know what to say. You know how I am Molly; you know that I don't express myself well when it comes to things like … this." He motioned to her, then back to himself.

The entire scene could have been considered ridiculous and utterly hilarious, him with his green face, and her with her green face, if it were not for the fact that he was completely confusing her.

"This? What do you mean by _this_?" She mimicked his gesture, "What is _this_? What are _we_?"

His gaze fell to the cat still in his lap. He stayed silent.

"Sherlock. I want you as a friend; first and foremost, you _are_ my friend. But one second you're asking me for help, the next you're telling me my mouth is too small. You repeatedly show up at my flat at all hours of the night, I've stitched you up, I've fed you, and then you go and stare at me as if I am the most fascinating and thrilling case you've ever had to solve. You can't keep doing that to me! I can't shut off like you, and delete things.

"Tell me what you need Sherlock, what you really, truly want. And if you don't, if you can't, then I have to leave, because I don't think I can take it anymore. I love you. I love who you are. I don't want you to change. But I need some form of clarity, or I think I'll go mad. Do you love me or not? Do you want me as a friend or something more? You once told me that I was the one that mattered most. Is that still true?"

During her entire speech Sherlock hadn't once raised his eyes from the tabby cat still sleeping curled up in his lap. Several more minutes passed in silence.

With a slow, sad sigh Molly stood up, "I forgot, you believe that sentiment is a chemical defect. That caring is a disadvantage." She started to move away from the sofa.

"Where are you going?"

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

Yay? Nay? Good? Bad?

Do you want to know what is going to happen next?

Remember! Reviews make me smile! :)


	2. Where are You Going?

**Here is Chapter Two! **

**There are some interesting developments that take place here!**

**Sherlock makes a shocking revelation and a confession ensues.**

** Where will this take them?**

**To bed?**

**Read to find out! :D**

* * *

><p>Chapter Two – Where are You Going?<p>

* * *

><p>"Where are you going?"<p>

The sound of his voice brought her to a standstill. She turned back around and faced him, "To wash this stuff off." She motioned to her green face, "Come on, yours is probably dry as well." She held her hand out to him.

After nudging Toby off his lap he stood up and placed his hand in hers. They walked back to the bathroom.

"Have a seat; I'm going to take mine off first." Molly said to him as she grabbed up a towel.

He returned to his spot on the toilet lid. His brain wouldn't shut up, switch off, stop. A multitude of pros and cons were being thrown at him: _yes, you should tell her how you feel. No, you shouldn't. Remember you are married to your work. Without the work you are nothing. Alone is what protects you. _All of this was going on inside of his head whilst she was standing at the sink wiping the mask from her face with the now wet cloth. Once the last bit of green was gone and she turned to face him the voices died away, ever so slightly. She had been right. She did look refreshed. Her skin almost appeared to be glowing. He found himself needing to swallow.

"Want me to wipe yours off, or do you want to do it?"

He swallowed again before answering, "You can." Dammit. His voice had cracked, "I am not looking at myself in the mirror."

She let out a soft huff of a laugh, "All right then." She grabbed up another towel and held it under the water.

The staring was to be inevitable. Both of them knew this. Both of them were also aware of the fact that they had never been in quite such close proximity of each other. Yes, they had worked side by side many a time, and he had often spent the night at her flat (his bolt hole, he called it) in her bed, but never had they shared in anything quite like this. This was so much more intimate.

After a few minutes Alien Sherlock was gone. There was no sign of the green mask left. Molly dropped the cloth onto the counter but didn't step away from him. After removing the pins from his hair, she fluffed up his curls, and then allowed her eyes to lock on his.

"If you can't tell me, then show me." Her voice was no more than a whisper, her soft warm breath brushing across his cheek.

Dilated pupils were a sign of attraction were they not? He had told her that, why had told her that? The thousands of voices inside Sherlock's head were still bouncing around, screaming at him.

Ever so slowly he raised his hands. She thought that he was going to check her pulse, but no. They came to rest on her hips. She could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Their gaze was still locked. He tilted his head to the side, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss to her lips. Upon that first connection the voices in his head grew silent. Ahh, bliss! He needed more of it. He gave a gentle tug at her hips and she stepped closer, moving in between his legs as their mouths met again. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed as she began to return the kiss, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. There was nothing but silence. He slipped one hand to the small of her back, steadying her as their tongues met and danced. One of them moaned, neither was sure who.

Her hands had moved upwards to cradle his face, her fingertips brushing over his cheekbones. Somehow she had come to be sitting in his lap. Her warm body pressed up against his. Eventually though, their need to breathe grew impossible to ignore.

"This is so much better than talking!" She panted against him.

He only nodded, amazed by how quiet his mind had become.

"Do you … should we move to somewhere a bit more comfortable?" She asked him.

Where they were sitting, and the way they were sitting was rather awkward. He only nodded again and allowed her to lead him from the bathroom. Expecting her to go into the bedroom, he was surprised when she returned to the sofa. He gave her a questioning look.

"If this is what you really want, I'm not going to rush you into doing anything. We don't need to rush. Look at how long it took for us to get here!"

He took her face in his hands and kissed her, "Sex doesn't alarm me, Molly."

She raised an eyebrow, "So you're not a virgin?"

He let out an indignant sniff, "In spite of what Mycroft thinks, no."

"Oh." She paused, "We still don't have to."

He hadn't let go of her, "You don't want to?"

Her eyes flashed with fire, "Is that a joke?"

He smiled slightly, "No, it isn't. And I know that you do want to. In fact I'm quite certain that your-"

"Sherlock, shut up."

He raised both his eyebrows. Before either one of them was able to speak again, a noise, somewhat like a growl, interrupted them.

"You haven't eaten recently, have you?" She asked him.

He shook his head, "No. I was on a case, remember?"

She got up from the sofa and held out her hand again, "I'll make you some food."

After they walked into the kitchen Molly began to take out ingredients for an omelet.

"Think you can handle making toast?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Of course I can!"

Six slices of (extremely burnt) bread later, Molly and Sherlock sat down at her table.

"There's something wrong with your toaster." He noted.

"Mmm … sure there is."

She watched as he shoveled in the eggs, unable to fathom how he could possibly function without eating or sleeping for days.

"You don't know how to take care of yourself very well, do you?" She had brought her hand up, and was running it through his curls, "Would you let me take care of you?"

He took another bite of egg before putting down his fork, chewing and swallowing, "Do you really want to?" He had turned his head and was looking at her.

She still had her hands in his curls, "I practically do already. You've been here more often than you've been at Baker Street. Why is that exactly?"

"It's too quiet."

"You mean lonely, with John now being back with Mary?"

He nodded and returned to his eggs.

"I'm not just a replacement for him?"

The fork dropped from Sherlock's fingers with a clang, there was anger in his eyes, "NO! You're nothing like him. You're not a replacement at all. If anything you're an improvement."

She held back her smile, "An improvement. I like the sound of that."

He turned in his chair so that he was fully facing her, placing his hands on her arms, "Molly, you told me to show you if I couldn't tell you, but now you seem to not want me to do even that! What am I supposed to do to make you realize how important you are to me?"

She only blinked at him, so he continued.

"Molly, we've been friends for seven years, and I've slept in your flat for the passed five … well, actually it's been three because of my two years away … you know what I mean!

"Now that I've finally kissed you, I want to do more. I want to do everything. Is that rushing? I don't think so. We've waited long enough."

She leaned back slightly, "Whoa, hold on just a tick. I wouldn't exactly say that we've been friends for seven years, acquaintances yes, friends not so much."

The expression on Sherlock's face was unreadable, she cleared her throat.

"What I mean is that I only felt that our relationship –erm- _friendship_ blossomed directly before your fall, when you came to me and asked me for my help." She paused, hesitating unsure of how to go on.

"Is that why you thought that you didn't count?"

She looked away from him, "Partially, yes."

She stole a quick glance and could see that he was blinking rapidly.

"Why did you let me come and stay at your flat all those times? You could have told me no."

This time he stole a glance at her, and the look she gave him was almost answer enough.

"What am I against the hurricane that is The Great Sherlock Holmes? I am nothing but a reed in your wake."

He looked away from her, "Molly …"

She took his hand, "I wanted to help you, it's all I've ever wanted; to be there for you."

He looked down at their joined hands, brushing his thumb over the top of hers, "You have always been there for me. Forgive me, Molly, for all the years that have been wasted."

They sat in silence, their hands still clasped together.

"You're not a reed Molly." His voice broke through the hush, "You are one of the strongest people I know. There aren't many that have been able to withstand me for as long as you have."

"You and your gale force winds."

He chuckled slightly, "You're making me sound as if I have a flatulence problem."

Her laughter filled the kitchen. It was a glorious sound. He needed to hear that more often.

"Please understand me Molly," He continued once her laughter had calmed, "I would have done something about all of this sooner, if I hadn't been so blind. I had closed off so many emotions, I acted as if I was a machine … and it wasn't until …" He trailed off.

"John." She chimed in, "John changed you, he helped you. He humanized you. He made you a better man."

"Yes. He did. I owe him a lot."

"I think we both do."

Sherlock brought his other hand up to her face, stroking her cheek with his fingertips, "I wanted to kiss you, that night before I left to dismantle Moriarty's web, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was terrified I would destroy you by giving you false hope. I had no idea if I would ever return. I couldn't allow myself to do that to you. So I didn't kiss you. And then I came back, and you were … _engaged _… and that was when I came to truly admit to the fact that love was more of a disadvantage than an advantage. I forced myself to accept that I had lost you.

"Then there was that day in the lab, when I was high and you slapped me. You're ring was gone. I only said what I did because I thought that I had truly lost you. Why would you want to be with a high functioning sociopath junkie?

"From there on I just made things worse. I was an utter arse with Janine, nearly got myself killed with Magnussen, and then that ridiculous fake Moriarty had to show up and save me from exile.

"But now things have finally seemed to have calmed down, doubt for long though. Molly, I've insulted you, hurt you, I am an absolute arsehole that doesn't deserve you … but what I'm trying to say is … after all that I've done … after all that we've been through together … do you … is there a chance—"

Molly covered his mouth with her hand, bringing his long-winded diatribe to an end, "Yes."

They stared silently at each other for a few moments.

"I thought you weren't good at that, expressing yourself." She dropped her hand away.

He gave a slight shrug, "That just sort of happened. Once I started I couldn't stop."

She let out a slow breath, "I don't want you to think that you need to do anything that you are uncomfortable with to prove something to me."

He leaned closer towards her, "I'm not uncomfortable, with any of this. If I was, I wouldn't still be here."

"Ahh … duly noted. Are you finished?" She motioned towards his nearly empty plate.

"Yes. But not with you."

His eyes hadn't left hers, and his hands had moved and were now cradling her face. He leaned further forward and kissed her hungrily. Neither spoke for several minutes. He had dropped his hands away in order to pull her on to his lap. He could only hope that his body pressed so tightly up against hers was showing proof enough of how much he wanted and needed her.

"Will you allow me to take care of you?" He panted this out to her, his nose pressed up against her cheek. Both of them were breathing heavily.

"Can you do that?" She asked him.

He could feel her smiling against his skin,"Allow me to take you to bed and I'll prove it."

She let out a slightly husky laugh, "Do you really know how to do … all of … that?" There was no way that she could have asked him such a question if she hadn't had her face buried in the crook of his neck.

He tipped his head slightly, just enough so that he could press his lips to her pulse point, feeling the erratic beat of her heart.

"I assure you, I do. I already told you that I am not a virgin. And I have participated in the act of watching pornographic material. I know that porn isn't the most reputable way to learn how to make proper love to woman. It was for a case. And I deleted most of it," A shudder ran though his body, "But not all of it. I retained a few vital things."

As if to demonstrate what one of these things was, he slipped his hand upward and cupped her left breast, ever so slightly brushing his thumb over her nipple which had long ago hardened into a stiff peak. He momentarily cursed the fabric barrier, but was quickly distracted by the soft mewl that escaped her throat. He glanced at her, and saw that her lips were slightly parted and her eyes had fallen closed. He brushed his thumb over her nipple again, pleased when a moan escaped her.

"I am quite willing to learn." He pushed down a bit harder, "Do you like that? Do you want me to continue?" He repeated the action, "Or do you want me to stop?" He pulled his thumb away, but still held her breast.

Her eyes flew open and met his, "Don't you dare stop!"

He chuckled, pleased to see that she was at last beginning to relax and accept the fact that they _both_ wanted this.

"Can I take you to bed Molly?" His voice had grown deeper. He felt a shiver course through her as his warm breath brushed over the shell of her ear.

"Yes."

He didn't need to be told twice. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her bridal style to her bedroom. She momentarily distracted him with a deep kiss, forcing him to stop in the doorway because he couldn't see where he was going.

"Molly!"

Her only reply was a slight giggle. With a low growl he continued into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him and depositing her on the mattress. She let out a noise of disappointment as he stepped back slightly, not joining her on the bed as she expected.

"Shall I undress you, or do you want to undress yourself?" He asked her.

She dipped her chin down so that she could look up at him through her eyelashes. It was positively coquettish.

"Undress me."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**He He He! **

**Little Mousy Molly is not so Mousy eh? ;)**

**I'll probably be ready to post chapter three on friday :D Don't want to be too cruel :)**

**Don't forget, reviews make me smile! :D**


	3. Undress Me

**Bring on the smut! *cough***

**Sherlock (of course) does manage a few Not Good moments … **

**But don't worry, he makes up for them ;)**

**And in the process he reveals something that neither one of them ever expected.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Three – Undress Me<p>

* * *

><p>"Undress me." She told him.<p>

With a smile that could quite easily be called wolfish, he kneeled on the bed with her body in-between his legs, his knees resting on either side of her hips. She was sitting up slightly, leaning back on her elbows. He grasped at the edges of her t-shirt and tugged it upwards. She sat up further, raising her arms and he pulled it off entirely, tossing it to the floor. He was pleased to discover that yes; she was not wearing a bra.

He had previously caught a glimpse of her breasts some weeks ago, entirely on accident (this is what he told himself, repeatedly). He had spent the night at her flat, and the next morning, while she was taking a shower, she had left the bathroom door partially open to let the steam out. He had just returned to her bedroom to retrieve his phone when he walked passed the open door and he saw her stepping out of the shower having not yet grabbed a towel, her naked body fully on display to him. She had no knowledge of this. But from that moment on he couldn't stop himself from wondering what it would feel like to have his mouth on her breasts, sucking on her nipple. Now he needed to wonder no longer.

"Oh God!" She gasped out as she fell back onto the mattress.

"Mmm … no, I am in no way a deity." His voice was muffled slightly as he had taken almost her entire breast into his mouth.

Speech quickly became a nuisance as he worked his lips hungrily on her; varying from licking, sucking and biting. She had become so focused on his mouth on her breasts that she hadn't even noticed him deftly removing her shorts, only to reveal a pleasing lack of knickers.

When he spread apart her folds with his fingers, already so deliciously wet, she let out a cry as he dipped one, then two fingers into her center. His mouth was at her navel now. How had he moved down there so quickly? Before she could contemplate anything else, his lips had reached her taut little nub. The moan she let out was practically feral as he lapped at her with his tongue, his fingers moving inside of her.

"Fuck!"

Oh, that was something new. Judging by the ache between his thighs, he rather liked it. He continued his ministrations with his tongue and fingers, her hips rolling with his movements. Her hands had become tangled in his curls, and when he felt her fingernails pressing in to his scalp he knew that she was close.

He lifted up his head and looked up at her, loving how her body was flushed with pure arousal, "Do you want to come Molly? Do you want me to make you come?"

She whimpered slightly, his fingers still working in her. He moved them in a slight come hither motion.

"Look at me."

She opened her eyes and peered down at him. Her lips parted as she panted slightly.

"Tell me what you want Molly."

A delightful blush cascaded over her face, "Make me come, Sherlock. I want you to make me come."

He dropped his mouth back to her clit and gave it a long, drawn out suck, keeping his eyes locked on hers. She threw her head back, crying out as he held his fingers inside of her, feeling her walls clenching around him. He gave her a few more gentle sucks before pulling away from her and slipping his fingers out. He licked them clean, loving the taste of her.

She was panting heavily now. Her breasts rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. He gave each breast a kiss before moving upwards so that his face was hovering over hers. She opened her eyes and stared up at him.

"That was … mmm!" She didn't finish her sentence because she had brought him down to her for a kiss; she could taste herself on his tongue.

When they parted for breath he ran his nose up the length of her neck, "You can undress me … if you like." He murmured into her skin.

She made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt, her small fingers moving expertly. When she came to his trousers he helped her with them.

"Do you usually not wear any pants?" She wasn't looking in his eyes, but instead at his pleasing erection. She delicately wrapped her hand around his cock, moving her thumb over the tip.

He let out a grunt, "Mmm, not always." He had no choice but to swat her hand away, "Molly stop, unless you want this to end right now."

She pulled her hand away completely, letting it come to rest on his arm. He laid his forehead on her shoulder, taking in several deep breaths.

"Sherlock?" She nudged him gently with the tip of her nose, "Are you all right?"

He nodded, "Yes. It's just all a bit … overwhelming."

She brought her hands up to his curls, massaging his scalp, "We can stop. It's all right."

"NO!" He lifted up his head and looked down at her, "I want to do this. I just needed a moment. That was all."

"Oh."

Before another word could be spoken by either of them he kissed her.

"Condom?" She murmured against his lips.

He shook his head, "You're on birth control. And I'm clean, and so are you." He kissed her again, "I want to feel you in entirety." He moved his hips forward ever so slightly, so that just the tip of him brushed up against her wet folds, barely slipping between them. He pressed his forehead to hers, "Do you want me Molly?" He rolled his hips slightly, rubbing his cock up against her.

"Yes!" She panted out, as he pressed the tip of his erection directly against her clit.

"Do you need me?"

"Oh God, yes!"

Her arms were around his shoulders now, pulling him down to her. He kissed her again as he slipped his hand down between their bodies so that he could guide himself in. As he slid into her welcoming wetness, she let out a loud gasp.

He froze, "Molly?" He questioned, before quickly pulling himself out of her.

She cried out in disappointment, sitting up slightly, "What are you doing?"

"Did I hurt you?" His eyes were filled with concern, not a sight she was accustomed to seeing.

"No!" She cradled his face in her hands, "I only made that sound because it felt so wonderful to have you in me. Please, I need you back inside of me!" She was pleading with him, terrified that he would now not want to continue. She dropped one of her hands down to his still hard cock. He was slick with her juices, "Please?"

He kissed her and she settled down on to her back, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He surged his hips forward, entering her. They moaned in unison when they were once more connected.

"My Molly, you feel so good!" His voice was husky, deeper.

She let out several mewls as he gave a few shallows thrusts before fully seating himself inside of her. It felt so incredibly amazing. It felt right.

"Fuck!" She groaned.

He gave a hard thrust in reply, lifting one of her legs up over his hip so that her ankle rested on the cheek of his arse. She lifted up her other leg, so that both were wrapped around him. He entered her even further now, his fingers digging in to her side as he held her. She whimpered as he surged his hips forward and he came to a standstill, holding himself deep inside of her. He kissed her then, cradling the side of her face with his hand. Her fingernails were digging into his back as she pressed her hips upward to meet his, wanting him to continue his movements. He groaned into her mouth then broke apart the kiss.

"Molly … wait…" He panted against her lips, before resting his forehead against hers once more.

"What is it? Are you all right?" Her eyes were now filled with concern.

He had to kiss her again, "I'm fine. There's just something I need to say. Something I need to tell you."

She had brought her hands up to his face, brushing back some of his curls, "Now?" She questioned.

He knew that this was all a Bit Not Good, to put pause to such an intimate moment, but it needed to be said. And if he didn't say it now, he might not be ever able to bring himself to.

"Sherlock?"

He blinked rapidly, realizing that he had allowed his mind to wander off, "Sorry." He kissed her again so that his mind would grow quiet once more. Once it did, he ended the kiss, but left his lips hovering over hers as he looked directly into her eyes.

"Sherlock?" She repeated.

He blinked rapidly again, as she pushed her hips up to meet his in reminder of what they had been doing.

"Molly!" He gasped out, "I love you, God dammit!" He watched as her eyes widened slightly, her mouth dropping open. Realizing that that had come out rather harshly he hurriedly added, "I'm not just saying that because of the endorphins running through my brain, I truly, honestly mean it. I. Love. You."

She was the one blinking now, "Normally people don't say God dammit after confessing their love, Sherlock." She tightened her hold on his shoulders.

He let out a slightly annoyed huff, "Isn't this where most people say that they love the other person back?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes she snuck her hands up to the back of his neck and toyed with the hair at the nape, "It's just … that's a lot to take in."

He rolled his hips against hers, "Is it?"

She held in a moan, before giving the back of his head swat, "Yes! It is! I didn't quite expect you to say that. Ever."

He rested his forehead against hers, "I know. I'm not usually accustomed to displaying my feelings, giving in to my emotions. Dammit woman you've ruined me!"

She laughed softly, bringing her hands forward to cradle his face, "Say it again. Tell me. I don't need to hear it constantly, but I want to hear you say it now, again."

He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, "I love you." His voice was barely above a whisper.

She smiled, letting her eyes fall closed, "I love you too, God dammit! … but you've always known that, haven't you?"

He nodded against her and their lips met. If he had thought she had been kissing him passionately before, then what was she doing now? He returned the kiss with fervor, pulling his hips back slightly so that he could thrust into her once more.

"I may not last long," He panted out, not stopping his thrusts, "It's been years since I've done this."

She cupped her face in his hands, moving her hips in time with him, "That's all right. I don't think I'm going to either! Oh God!"

He held onto her firmly, his mind only able to focus on the feeling of her warm body surrounding him. Suddenly he felt a tightening in his lower back, his scrotum beginning to ache.

"Molly!" He gasped out, "I'm close, so close!"

He rocked his hips against her, slowing his thrusts.

"So am I! Don't stop, Sherlock! Please! Don't pull out! Come inside me!"

She arched her back, pressing herself into him as hard as she could. He was thrusting his entire length into her now.

"Come with me Molly!"

He had slipped his hand down between their joined bodies in order to rub his thumb across her clit.

"YES!"

As their bodies moved together it did not take much longer for either one of them to tumble over into the abyss of orgasm, both of them crying out.

She clung to him, shivering slightly. He had his face buried in her neck, all legible thoughts deliciously mute. They lay like this for several moments as they rode off the high that they had created with their bodies.

"You're shaking." He noted, struggling to lift up his head in order to look down at her, "Are you all right?"

She nodded, "I don't think I've ever felt anything quite like that before." She said breathlessly.

He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, then slipped himself out of her, collapsing down at her side. Several more minutes passed in silence, both of them trying their best to regain some form of cognitive thought.

"Molly?" He sounded exhausted.

She turned her head, brushing her nose against him, "Mmm?"

"I still mean it."

He felt her smile against him as she placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw, "I know Sherlock, I know."

He tilted his head down slightly so that their lips could meet in what would most definitely be considered a lazy kiss. With a satisfied sigh he laid his head down on her shoulder.

"Where did you get that face mask?"

She let out a low chuckle, "At Boots, why?"

"Mmm … nothing. I was just thinking that we may need to go and buy out their entire stock."

She dissolved into laughter. He shifted his body slightly so that he could press a kiss to the side of her neck.

"Leave it to you to have a face mask kink!"

He gave a shrug as he lifted himself up (with a bit of effort) so that he was hovering over her.

"Aren't you tired?" She had her arms draped over his shoulders.

"Exhausted. I feel as if I could sleep for days!"

"You probably will."

He made a noise of agreement before dropping his mouth down to hers.

"Sherlock … why don't you go to sleep?"

"Want you, too much." He murmured between kisses, "I am Mr. 'Seven times in Baker Street,' if you recall."

"Sherlock, stop." She gently pushed him away from her, "I know that that article was done by Janine just to get back at you. But all that aside … we don't have to again tonight. I'm not going anywhere. There'll be plenty of time for more of that. You need to sleep."

He huffed slightly, with a tiny bit of pout, "Taking care of me already, are you?"

She smiled up at him, "Yes. If you go to sleep now, I'll make it worth your while to wake up in the morning." She moved her eyebrows suggestively.

With a chuckle he kissed her again, "Fine. You win!" He settled himself back down, his head resting on her shoulder once more. Within moments he was fast asleep.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**Hmmmm ... what will the morning bring? **


	4. Fast Asleep

**It's the morning after …**

**What will happen? **

**More smut?**

**That is HIGHLY likely ;)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Four – Fast Asleep<p>

* * *

><p>Within moments he was fast asleep. Molly watched him until her own exhaustion took over and she too fell asleep. She did not wake until the next morning.<p>

Her body ached. She was sore in places she hadn't been sore in quite some time. She liked it. Moaning softly she stretched before rolling over so that she was facing Sherlock. She didn't know if she would ever be able to fully wrap her mind around the fact that she had shagged him! He was still asleep, his face partially covered by the pillow, his curls sticking out at all angles. She resisted the urge to press a kiss to his forehead, not wanting to disturb him. Instead she ever so slowly slipped out from under the sheet, grabbed her clothes from the floor and padded quietly from the room, closing the door softly behind her.

After going to the bathroom and cleaning her self up a bit she slipped on her shirt and shorts and went into the kitchen. Her stomach was growling and she was desperate for coffee. Once she got the coffee brewing she made herself a few slices of toast (not burnt). With her cup of steaming coffee she settled down at the table and took a few absent-minded bites of toast. Her thoughts were far-away, focused on the activities of the previous night. She felt a slight shiver course through her body at the thought of all that had happened. If he hadn't been asleep in her bed, right now, she would have thought that she had dreamt it all. That none of it was real. She propped her chin in her hand, taking a sip of her coffee and closing her eyes.

Suddenly she heard the sound of her bedroom door opening, then the sound of the bathroom door closing. She was surprised to hear him moving about. Thinking that he would probably go back to sleep when was he done, she returned to her coffee, closing her eyes once more. They flew open though when she heard a noise. A great, big thump. She hurried from the kitchen only to find Sherlock sprawled face down across her living room floor, wrapped up in her sheet. She ran over to him just as he was pushing himself up to a seated position, and kneeled down beside him.

"Are you all right?" She asked him, struggling to hold in her laughter.

He was scowling, "I'm perfectly fine. My foot got caught up in the sheet and I tripped. I've never had that happen before."

A giggle escaped her, "That was quite a sight."

He continued to scowl, "Hardly very dignified."

She giggled again, "Are you sure you're all right? Nothing … broken?" Her eyes trailed downwards, he was still covered by the sheet, the only thing visible was his bare chest.

His hand moved up her arm, "Nothing valuable, only my pride."

Molly let out a loud snort, "It would take a lot more than that to break your pride."

She grew silent as his gaze grew more intense. She took in a breath to steady her voice.

"I'm surprised you're awake. I thought you'd sleep most of the day away."

He shrugged, "You left the bed."

"I was hungry. Do you want coffee?"

He shook his head, his curls were mussed; _sex hair_, "I just brushed my teeth."

"Ahh … found your toothbrush then?"

"Mmhmm." He leaned forward and gave her a kiss, "You taste like cinnamon."

"You taste like spearmint."

He kissed her again, his hand still on her arm. Molly was grateful that there was no awkwardness between them. She honestly hadn't known how he would be after all that had happened the night before. _This_ was a good result.

"Are you hungry?" She asked him breathlessly when they finally had parted for air. Her hand was resting on his chest; she could feel the erratic beating of his heart.

He shook his head, his curls bouncing, "Not for food, no, but for you, yes!"

She laughed as he slipped his other hand out from under the sheet and pulled her closer to him, kissing her deeply. She moved her hand downwards, palming his semi-hard erection through the sheet. He groaned into her mouth.

"Are you going to make good of that promise you made to me last night?" He asked huskily.

She laughed once more, "How about a shower?"

He was about to pout when he noticed the mischievous gleam in her eyes, "Sex, in the shower?"

"Mmm … possibly!"

She tore herself away from his hold and got up from the floor, hurrying away from him, cackling. He pushed the sheet off and quickly followed her. He could already hear the water running. The bathroom was starting to steam when he walked in, closing the door behind him. She had stripped down, he was happy to see her naked again. Before she could move away he grabbed her and pulled her tightly up against him. She let out a slight squeak. He kissed her, their tongues dancing together.

"No regrets then, about last night?" She inwardly cursed herself for having to ask him this.

He peered down at her, "Would I still be here, would I be standing here naked with you, if I did have any regrets?"

She shook her head, "No … I just …"

He sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, knowing that it would take quite some time for him to fully convince her how much he wanted all of this. He tucked his hand under her chin and pressed his mouth to hers gently.

"Come on, let's get under the water." She said to him once they had pulled apart.

Molly slid the glass shower door open and stepped inside, he following closely behind. She let out a happy sigh as she moved under the stream of water. He slid the shower door closed before standing there to watch her. The water was cascading down her body, wetting her hair, slicking it back, tumbling down over her breasts, her stomach, the apex between her thighs, her legs. He followed her under the water, letting out a happy sigh of his own as the warmth of it seeped into his bones. He was blocking the water from her now, just a slight spray of it hitting her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He smiled down at her. Reaching up she brushed back the hair from his face before standing on her tip toes and pressing her lips to his. He curled his arms around her waist, pulling her back up against him in order to deepen the kiss. He could feel her hand on his chest, slipping down his stomach until it reached his now prominent erection. He groaned into her mouth as she wrapped her hand around his cock. It amazed him how she knew exactly what to do to make it feel good. He pulled away from the kiss, resting his head on her shoulder as she continued to work her hand on him. After giving a slight nip with his teeth at her skin he picked his head back up and nudged her hand away from him. She looked at him questioningly.

"Turn around." His voice was slightly hoarse.

She did as he asked. He gave her a gentle push forward until she was standing directly before the shower door. He pressed his body up against hers, his erection pressing between the cheeks of her bum. She let out a whimper. Her breasts were now pushed up against the cool glass. He nudged her legs apart with his knee before cupping one of her arse cheeks in his hand before slipping it underneath her and stroking lightly at her wet folds with his fingers. A soft moan escaped her lips as he spread her further apart allowing him to slide his cock into her, into her delicious wet heat.

She groaned, splaying her hands out on the glass for leverage. He was fully seated in her now, holding himself deep inside of her. Both of his hands were on her hips, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder.

"How does that feel, having me take you from behind like this?"

"Oh God!" She panted, "Oh God it feels so good!"

He rolled his hips, causing both of them to moan.

"Fuck me Sherlock. Please! Fuck me!"

Pulling his hips away from hers, he slipped himself out until just the tip of him was resting inside of her, causing her to whimper. He gave a hard thrust, her back arching into him as she threw her head back, it landing on his shoulder.

"Oh yes!"

The sound of the water drowned out the majority of their moans and her wild cries, as he thrust into her again and again. The sensations that their joined bodies were making was almost too much for the pair of them.

"Are you close Molly?" He grunted, releasing one of his hands from her hips to slip it down to her front. His fingers came in contact with her juices. He rolled his fingertips across her clit, over and over.

"Fuck! Yes! I am so fucking close, oh my God!" She cried out.

Within moments her orgasm was crashing over her, almost more intense than the one he had given her the night before. After a few more thrusts he was following her. With shaky legs they slipped down to the shower floor. They moved back slightly, so that they were under the stream of water.

He had her cradled in his arms. She had turned herself around and now her legs were around his waist, her cheek resting on his chest. Both of them were breathing heavily. After a few minutes he reached up and turned the water so that it became slightly warmer.

"Think you can stand?" He asked her.

She nodded, and they both moved to their feet. He steadied her before taking her face in his hands and kissing her.

"Definitely worth waking up for!" He stated.

She giggled before reaching behind him and grabbing her shampoo, "You're going to smell like me now."

She squirted some of the liquid into her hands, working it into a lather before soaping up his curls. He kissed the tip of her nose as she massaged his scalp. He took the shampoo bottle and repeated her actions; washing her hair.

After they both soaped up each other's bodies (he seemed to enjoy rubbing his slippery hands over her breasts and arse) they then rinsed off. He turned off the water and they stepped out of the shower. She tossed him a towel. She let out a loud giggle as he worked the towel through his hair, it sticking out in every direction. Once they were both dried he tugged her back towards the bedroom.

"I think I need a nap." He announced to her.

He pulled her down with him onto the mattress. Their bodies were still warm from the heat of the shower. She let out a contented sigh as he pulled up the duvet, wrapping it around them. Within seconds they had both fallen asleep.

It was dark out when they both awoke. Molly groaned into her arm as she rolled onto her stomach. Sherlock kissed her temple, hooking a leg up over hers.

"I'm starved." He murmured into her hair.

"Me too."

"Take away?"

"Sounds wonderful. There's a menu in the kitchen, near the phone."

"Mmm … that requires getting out of bed, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Yes it does."

"Ughhh."

She laughed, "I'm not moving. You can do it. I know you can."

With a great humph he sat up and slipped out from under the duvet. She popped her eyes open and watched him walk from the room, her gaze fixed on his arse. She was rather shocked that he was actually going to do it. He returned a few minutes later.

"Ordered and on its way." He said to her as he slid back in.

"Mmmm."

They lay their silently. No other sound but that of the noise from the street outside.

"We should get dressed." Molly moved to sit up, "Your pyjamas are where they usually are, if you don't want to put your trousers and shirt back on."

He didn't say anything, just simply continued to lay there and watch her move about as she searched for clean clothes. Once she was dressed he realized that he had no choice but to join her in the clothed world.

By the time the take away arrived they were both sitting on the sofa, silverware and two glasses of red wine and a glass of water each on the coffee table before them. Molly had returned her sheet, which Sherlock had left on the floor, to her bed.

"I may be partial to Chinese, but I do love Indian food as well." She said as she took a bite of her Aloo Gobi.

Sherlock made a noise of agreement, but didn't say anything.

"Are you all right? You've been awfully quiet, and I know it's not because you've been in your Mind Palace."

He took a sip of water, "Do you mind if I don't stay tonight?"

"No. You don't have to if you don't want to. That's fine."

He nodded, "Ok. Good."

She pressed her lips to his cheek, "I know. It's a lot to take in. We can slow down."

He slipped his arm around her, "It's not that. I just really need to sleep, and you are hugely distracting."

She laughed, "I see. That's fine. I understand. Just let me know when you want to see me again. I'm not going to nag you twenty-four/seven. I'll wait for you."

He turned his head so he was looking at her, "Like you always have?"

"Like I always have, and always will."

He smiled and kissed her, "I'll want to see you soon, don't worry."

She laid her head down on his chest, "I know."

"I have a lot to change and add to your room in my Mind Palace."

She picked up her head, "I have a whole room?"

"Most definitely. An entire room that will now have a bed."

A blush covered her cheeks, "Will I be naked upon it?"

"Possibly."

A little while later he left, kissing her deeply before he did. She cleaned up the take away and went to wash her sheets. Then she decided to send off a text to Meena. She needed a girl's night out.

Meena's only response was, "So, is he as good of a shag as you thought he'd be?"

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

***cackles* I think it's safe to say that I love Meena! ;)**

**And noooo ... the fact that the outtakes video was released today had nothing to do with a particular part in this chapter ... NOT at all!**

**Remember, reviews make me smile! :D**


	5. Is He as Good of a Shag as You Thought?

**Oh ho! What is Meena going to have to say?!**

**This chapter had me cackling quite a bit as I wrote it.**

**There's no actual smut in this chapter, just smutty flashbacks.**

**Got the idea for that from Conchepcion, hope she doesn't mind!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Five – Is He as Good of a Shag as You Thought He'd Be?<p>

* * *

><p>"So, is he as good of a shag as you thought he'd be? You didn't answer me the first time I asked you." Meena took a drag on her cigarette before slowly blowing out the smoke.<p>

They were standing outside a pub in the cool night air. Molly found it refreshing, she desperately need to clear her head. For a split second she wished that she smoked, but then quickly retracted that thought; she was a doctor. At the sound of Meena's question, memories from the passed night and day flooded through her mind.

She hid her face in her hands, "How the Hell did you even know? All I said in the text was 'want to meet up at the pub?'" She peeked out at her through her fingers.

Meena gave her a poignant look, "You never want to meet up like this at such short notice unless it's to discuss your night with some bloke. And seeing as you were so cryptic I automatically assumed it had to either be some random man you met (highly unlikely) or Sherlock Holmes (a slightly less highly unlikely)."

The blush on Molly's face was assurance enough. Meena tapped the ash from her cigarette, and gave it another drag before finishing it off and dropping it to the ground. She dug the heel of her boot into it before beckoning to Molly to walk into the pub.

"So, tell me, was he as good as you always imagined?" Meena asked her as they grabbed a couple of seats. Within moments two pints were before them, Meena was well known here. Molly started to blush again.

_Moans were being ripped from her throat, as he thrust into her, filling her up entirely. His hot breath was hitting her cheek as he too let out a moan._

Molly picked up her pint, taking a generous sip, "He certainly wasn't disappointing." She mumbled around the rim of the glass.

Meena smirked, "He's not deformed in anyway?"

_She wrapped her hand around his hard, thick cock, stroking it, feeling the weight of him._

Molly gave an undignified snort before shaking her head, "Not at all."

"Did he make you orgasm, or did he just get himself off? And I mean a real, true orgasm." Meena asked.

_'Come with me Molly!' Her walls clinched around his cock, her entire body shuddering. Her mind was blank; the only thing she was certain of was how incredible that felt. Had she seen stars?_

"Yes. More than once."

'_I am so fucking close, oh my God!'_

Meena's smirk grew wider, "Glad to hear it. You've been in need of a good shag. You've been much too stagnant of late, since Tom, and he was ages ago."

Molly grimaced slightly.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned him."

Molly dismissed her with her hand, "It's fine. I'll just say this, Sherlock is far more endowed them him." She let out an additional snort before she took another sip, "Meat dagger."

Meena cackled, "More like Meat Pencil right? Isn't that what you told me?"

The two of them burst into uncontrollable laughter. Shortly after it subsided the pair of them had to wipe tears from their eyes.

Meena smiled, "Well I am glad to hear that too. I have to say though, I am rather surprised. I was never one of those who thought Sherlock was gay, I just always considered him to be asexual … so come on, give me some more details! How did it all come to happen?" She grabbed up her own pint and took a rather large gulp.

_'The face mask, do you want to try it out?'_

Molly wrapped both her hands around her pint glass and stared down into its dark depths. She was not about to tell her how it had all come about, that was slightly too personal and intimate; she wanted it just to be known by her and Sherlock and no one else. It was also slightly ridiculous.

_'Did my staring bother you that much?'_

"I don't think either one of us expected it to happen. I don't think he intended for that at all to take place. I don't even know why exactly he showed up at my flat. Not that that's an uncommon occurrence. I told him that we didn't have to have sex right away that we could move slowly, but he didn't want that."

_'Will you allow me to take care of you?'_

Meena slammed her palm down onto the table, "MOLLY! You didn't jump him straight away, even with him making it clear that he wasn't objected to it? After all these years of you fantasizing about fucking him?! What the Hell is your problem?"

_ 'Do you want me Molly? Do you need me?' _

She worried her bottom lip, "I didn't want to rush him into doing anything he didn't want to do. In all honesty it frightened me. As much as I have wanted him, I never thought that it would actually happen. Just like you, I really didn't think that he had the desire to do any of that, and especially with me. He made it clear though that it was very much so what he wanted. And he definitely knew what he was doing. He told me he wasn't a virgin, and yeah he certainly is not! He knew exactly what to do, where to touch me … it was incredible."

_He was suckling on her nipple, his tongue lapping at the swollen bud as his hand massaged her other breast, pinching that nipple between his thumb and forefinger. _

Meena finished her cigarette and downed the rest of her pint, "Well, thank God for that. Is he kinky?"

Molly laughed, "I'm not sure yet. He seemed to like it when I cursed though."

_He had thrust his full length into her, hard, in response to her choice of words, his hips slapping against hers._

"Hmmm …"

Molly took a generous gulp of her beer, "Ever had sex in the shower?"  
>Meena's eyebrows disappeared into her fringe, "Really? Didn't think him capable of that one."<br>"I never thought much of shower sex, tried it once with Tom and it was bloody awful … but oh my God, with Sherlock it was really, really hot! I don't think I'll ever be able to look at my shower the same way again."

_'Turn around.' _

Meena threw back her head and laughed, "How'd you do it?"

Molly's blush deepened, "He had me face the shower door. He had me pressed up against it."

_The hard points of her nipples were rubbing up against the cold glass as he pounded into her, his hips slamming against her arse. The angle he was entering her felt so amazing._

Meena closed her eyes, envisioning it, "Mmmm … wow. So he makes you feel good then?" She opened up her eyes and looked at Molly.

_ 'How does that feel, having me take you from behind like this?'_

"Yes, oh God yes! And not just that time in the shower, every time, everything that he did it felt like he was worshipping me. I'm sore! I'm actually bloody sore! It was all slightly daunting; I've never had a guy be so thorough with me before. It was wonderful."

_She had her legs wrapped around his waist, as he entered her again and again, slipping deeper into her, his thick cock rubbing her tight walls in just the right way._

"Well come on, he's Sherlock Holmes! Of course he is going to be thorough!" Meena paused, motioning to the bar tender for another beer, "How is he with oral? You didn't have to show him where your clit is located did you?"

_His tongue was dragging across her swollen nub, shifting from sucking on it with his lips to lapping at it, 'Do you want me to make you come?' His fingers were working inside of her. _

The look on Molly's face told all.

"Christ! The man really is good at everything isn't he?" She paused again before continuing, "You don't think that he is just treating this as an experiment do you?"

_ 'I am quite willing to learn.'_

Molly worried her bottom lip, "No. I don't." She hadn't intended to tell her friend this, but decided to anyway, "He … he told me he loved me."

'_I love you, God dammit!'_

Meena's eyes grew massive, "He did that?! And you believed him? You know how he is Molly! He says things all the time that he doesn't mean, just to get them to do what he wants!"

_'I've insulted you, hurt you, I am an absolute arsehole that doesn't deserve you...'_

She screwed her mouth up tight, "I know that! I of all people know that! But that's not how it is this time. I know when he's lying, and he wasn't lying."

'_I still mean it.' _

Meena grew quiet, tapping her fingertips on her fresh beer, "I just don't want to see you get hurt. He has you to his full advantage now." She paused before looking at her, "How does that make you feel? Knowing that he loves you? You've been in love with him for years!"

_'I love you too, God dammit! … but you've always known that, haven't you?' _

"It amazed me really, and makes me really happy. But, it also scares me. I'm terrified that he'll get bored with me. That he'll realize that I'm pathetic and he'll leave me, decide that he's made a terrible mistake."

Meena's eyes grew fierce, "Don't you dare think for one second that you are pathetic! You're one of the youngest doctors to be working in that morgue, and you are the only woman! You are an incredibly smart person! Sherlock is lucky to have you, although I honesty believe you deserve better. But, we can't control who we fall in love with, I know that to be a massive fact. You're not pathetic Molly. And look at all you've done for him, is there anyone that takes care of him like you do? You saved his life! Twice! Has John done anything for him within the same capacity as you?"

_ 'You have always been there for me.'_

Molly shook her head, "Not quite. John has done a lot for him though, and Mrs. Hudson."

Meena studied her fingernail for a moment, "So do you think he wants to be in an actual relationship with you, or just be with you for the sex?"

'_My Molly, you feel so good!' He was completely inside of her now, clearly reveling in the feeling of her tight, wetness surrounding him._

Molly rolled her eyes, "Really Meena? He told me he loved me and now you think he is just wants me for a convenient shag?"

Meena shrugged her shoulders and Molly let out a huff.

"I don't really know if he even is aware of how a relationship actually works. I told him I wouldn't pester him, that he can call the shots. That he lets me know when he wants to see me. He went back to his flat tonight because he needed sleep; he told me I was too much of a distraction."

_'I have a lot to change and add to your room in my Mind Palace.'_

"A distraction … hmmm … that could be a good thing, and a bad thing."

"Yeah. I suppose we'll have to talk about it, but I don't really know how that could possibly go. He's so bad with things like that. I can't even believe he told me that he loved me. That took a lot for him, I know it did."

'_I'm not usually accustomed to displaying my feelings, giving in to my emotions. Dammit woman you've ruined me!'_

Meena gave her a happy smile, "Then he must really mean it. Molly I honestly believe that you may know him better than anyone else. You may even know him better than he knows himself. Sherlock would be a massive idiot to let you down. And if he ever hurts you or breaks your heart, I will feel nothing for him but absolute and undiluted loathing."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**Meena is a good egg ;)**

**Reviews make me smile! :D**


	6. Absolute and Undiluted Loathing

**Molly get's a surprise visitor (but is it really all that surprising?)**

**The smut continues to ensue (oh shocker!)**

**And Sherlock let's Molly know what he thinks about people finding out about them.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Six – Absolute and Undiluted Loathing<p>

* * *

><p>"… if he ever hurts you or breaks your heart, I will feel nothing for him but absolute and undiluted loathing."<p>

Meena's words floated around inside of Molly's brain as she leaned back into the cushions of the cab that was taking her home. She had stopped at three beers, but her head was rather fuzzy. After paying the driver she stumbled tiredly up the stairs to her flat, fumbling with the keys. She was glad to know that Meena had her back and that she was being supportive. Meena knew what Sherlock was like, and what she had spoken was true: Molly knew him far better than anyone else. The door slammed shut behind her. She grimaced slightly, struggling to turn on the light.

"Oh bloody Hell!" Molly shrieked, jumping back slightly.

Sherlock was sitting on her sofa with Toby on his lap. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I thought you went home to sleep." She had one hand resting on her chest, trying to calm down her racing heart.

He picked Toby up and placed him down on the floor before standing up and walking over to her, "Usually as soon as my head hits the pillow I pass out, but not this time. I tried everything I could think of, but nothing worked, I just couldn't get to sleep. And then I figured it out, I missed you. I missed your warmth."

Molly shook her head, "Sherlock, it's only been a few hours!"

He gave a shrug and pulled her close to him, "You didn't miss me at all?"

She chuckled into his chest, where she had buried her face, "Of course I did."

"You went out to a pub."

She lifted up her head and looked up at him, "Yeah. I met up with Meena."

"Mmm. Did you tell her about us?"

A bright red blush washed over her cheeks, "Uhm yes. Was that wrong? Should I not have? She won't tell anyone. She's not a gossip!"

He let out a sigh, "It's fine Molly. Isn't that a typical thing for women to do? Meet up with other women and discuss their love lives?"

"Sort of, yeah." Inside her head she said, "Did he just say 'love lives?'"

They both grew silent. She slipped her hands around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest. She could hear the steady beating of his heart.

"Meena has an … uhm … a message for you…"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she'll hate you to eternity if you do anything to hurt me."

He chuckled, "Just another to add to the list. She needn't worry though. I have no intention of doing so. I've hurt you too much already. I just want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Molly struggled to not let her body grow tense, she was rather shocked by what he had just said, "So does that mean… are we … an 'us?'"

She now expected to feel him grow tense beneath her, to back away, close himself off, but he didn't.

"I thought our coital activities were proof enough of that. And I did tell you I loved you."

She moved her head so that she could look up at him, "You want to be in a relationship with me? You want to be with me?"

His hold on her tightened as he stared down at her, "Yes."

"Ok."

With a relieved sigh he leaned forward and kissed her, but only briefly before he pulled back away with a concerned expression, "You do want to be with me, don't you?"

"Are your deduction skills slipping? Of course I want to be with you!" She brought her hands up to his face in order to tug him back down to her so that she could kiss him deeply.

He walked them towards her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. He lowered her to the bed, never breaking the kiss. They worked each other's clothing off, but once his naked body was hovering over hers she pulled away from him.

"Sherlock, I don't think I can. I'm really sore."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I'm sore too."

"We can just sleep. I don't work until late tomorrow."

"Mmm …" He stretched himself out beside her, on his side facing her.

She rolled over, coming up with an idea, "Lay on your back."

He raised an eyebrow but did as she requested. Ever so slowly she reached her hand out towards his semi-hard erection.

"How does that feel?" She gave him a gentle stroke with her finger along the length of his cock.

His body shuddered slightly, "Lighter. Touch me lighter."

She did so, rubbing the pad of her finger over him, barely touching. His eyes dropped closed, his breathing growing heavier. He was fully hard now.

"And this?" She dipped her head down, now gliding her tongue up the length of him.

"Fuck!" He groaned, his head tipping back. He grabbed at the sheets, making fists with his hands.

She smiled and took him fully into her mouth, wrapping her hand around the base of him. She lapped at the tip, squeezing slightly with her fingers. After a few minutes of working him with her lips and her hand, he let out another loud groan and emptied himself into her mouth. She released him, placing kisses on each of his hip bones before moving up to his navel, kissing him there, then up to his chest, his collarbones, his neck. She kissed along his jaw line before coming to his mouth, but stopped before she pressed her lips to his. She didn't know if he would want her to kiss him after what she had just done.

He pulled her to him, their lips crashing together; he rolled them over until he was on top of her, "Your turn." He murmured between kisses.

She let out a few breathy sighs as he kissed his way down her body before coming to her wet center. He delicately parted her glistening folds with his thumbs, she cried out as he suckled at her gently. He dipped his tongue into her wet core and she whimpered.

"Don't-don't put your fingers in me!"

"All right."

He lapped hungrily at her juices, loving the taste of her. She had her fingers in his hair; she gave him a tug, letting him know where she wanted him to put his mouth. When his lips wrapped around her clit, slipping out his tongue to drag across it, she cried out her legs twitching slightly. He pulled himself away from her, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand. He stretched himself out along side her once more and she curled into him. His arm was wrapped around her, holding her protectively.

"I think I can sleep now." He told her.

She laughed softly, "Mm…. me too!"

* * *

><p>Three days later while Molly was at work, busy with a boring autopsy, she heard her text tone chirp. Annoyed that she couldn't check to see who it was from, she tried her best to focus on the task at hand. Knowing all to well that the higher ups would poo poo her whipping out her phone while having a dead man's chest sliced open before her. Not to mention the blood that she would surely get all over the screen.<p>

Ten minutes later she was finished, cause of death noted (accidental drowning), and her hands were now free of gloves, washed and sanitized. She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and saw that there were four messages from Sherlock.

Come to Baker Street when you are finished with your shift. – SH

Please. – SH

Molly. Why aren't you answering me? – SH

Don't you want to come over? – SH

She was shocked that he had stopped there. She quickly typed back a reply, letting him know that she had been busy but that she would be glad to come to Baker Street. He had been working on a case, it taking up all of his time. They hadn't seen each other since his return to her flat when they had taken a "nap." They had managed to make love the following morning, slowly though. In spite of the soreness, it still managed to feel incredibly good. But that was the last time she had seen him, touched him. Her body was practically aching for him. No, it _was_ aching for him. His reply brought her back to the here and now, pulling her out of her reverie of their time in her bed.

I'll be waiting. – SH

She felt a slight shudder course through her body. Damn him. She glanced at the time and damned that as well. She had four more hours to go. But she was a professional. She knew how to focus. Throwing her shoulders back she pocketed her phone, grabbed a fresh pair of gloves and returned to work.

By the time she was finished she was positively famished so she decided to pick up some food on her way over to Baker Street. Knowing that she would be passing by Angelo's she chose to stop there, instead of going for the usual Chinese or Indian.

Molly wasn't surprised to find the door to 221 to be opened. She knew how Sherlock had the tendency to care little about these things. Rolling her eyes she locked the door behind her, certain that Mrs. Hudson would have a fit. That thought gave her pause. Mrs. Hudson didn't know about them, not yet at least. Molly wondered if she had taken her herbal soothers. She could only hope so, knowing that she and Sherlock had the tendency to be a bit … noisy. She hurried up the stairs, the bag of food hitting in to her shin.

Before she even had a chance to lay her hand upon the doorknob it swung open and Sherlock pulled her inside, slamming the door shut behind her. She let out a squeak as he shoved her back against the door, his mouth practically devouring her own. She dropped the bag to the floor, moaning into his mouth as she brought her arms up around his shoulders, returning the kiss with fervor.

"And hello to you too." She panted softly when they at last separated for breath.

He smiled at her before nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth.

"Done with the case then?"

He nodded, "Mmhmm, bit annoyed it didn't bring me to the lab though. I've missed you."

She returned his smile, "I've missed you too. Are you hungry? I stopped at Angelo's."

He peered down at the bag near her feet, "Ahh, thought I smelled something familiar." He stepped back from her, allowing her to move away from the door, "I suppose we should eat first, before taking you to my bed."

"Who is to say we'll make it to the bed?" She gave his prominent bulge a squeeze before quickly scooping up the bag of food and hurrying towards the kitchen.

"Dammit Molly!" He muttered beneath his breath as he followed her into the kitchen.

"Any chance of clean cutlery or plates?" She eyed him suspiciously.

With a dramatic roll of his eyes he gestured towards a cupboard, "Mrs. Hudson keeps a stash in there."

Molly moved towards the cabinet and opened it, "You've never done any experiments on them?"

He let out a nearly just as dramatic huff, throwing himself into one of the chairs at the table, "No. She won't let me."

Molly brought the plates and forks and knives to the table, "When has that ever stopped you?"

He lifted his eyes up to meet hers, "She threatened to tell Mummy if I did."

Molly bit back a smile, "Ahh … I see." She pulled out the food from the bag and placed it on the table, "I got your favourite. Angelo seemed rather pleased to know that you were going to be eating. He also said that he misses you. Have you not popped in to see him recently?"

Sherlock reached for the carton of food before reply, "No. I haven't. Suppose I should now. He'll want to know all about you."

She fell into the chair with a slight thud, "What do you mean?"

"Angelo will be suspicious. John has picked up food from him before, but not you. And the fact that you told him you were bringing it to me, well he is going to quickly jump to conclusions. The man may be a criminal, but he's not entirely stupid."

She leaned back into her chair, ignoring the food in front of her, in spite of the mouth watering smell of it.

"Should I not have said anything to him?"

Sherlock waved his fork dismissively, "It's all right Molly. He's not a gossip either. Perhaps he and Meena can meet up and compare notes?"

Molly glanced at him but saw that he was smiling and realized that he was just teasing her with that last comment. She gave his arm a slight shove before finally delving in to her own food.

Several minutes passed in silence as they ate, but Molly's mind was whirring. She was certain that Sherlock could hear her thoughts, he always could.

"Just say it Molly."

She jumped slightly, having been so deep in thought, "I uhh … I was just wondering are we going to tell everyone about … about us?" She moved the food around on her plate with her fork, not wanting to look up at him.

"Eventually."

She was surprised by how quickly he gave his answer.

"I rather like it just being us right now. I can perfectly imagine what John is going to say."

She snuck a glance at Sherlock, he was grimacing. She worried her bottom lip, "They're going to say that we're idiots, aren't they?"

Sherlock turned and looked at her, "They?"

"Everyone, John, Mary, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson will probably just be shocked."

"Why would they say we are idiots?"

Molly set her fork down and turned in her chair towards Sherlock, "Because they all know how I have pined after you for years, and they will automatically assume that you are using me, rather like what you did with Janine."

Sherlock's expression grew thunderous, "Well I'm not." He spat these words out, glaring down at his half-eaten plate of food, "What difference does it make what they think? I never care what anyone thinks. Does it matter to you?" He at last looked up from his plate, his eyes meeting hers.

"I just want them to be happy for us. To not judge us. Or worry. But in all honesty, I say complete and utter bollocks to them. They can think whatever the Hell they like."

He slipped his hand around her waist, sliding her close to him and kissed her deeply, "I knew I loved you for a reason."

"A reason? Only one reason?"

"All right, there's far more than one. Would you like me to tell you what they all are?" He had moved his lips to her neck, nipping at her pulse point. He could feel her heart rate going up.

"Mmm … not right now, perhaps some other time."

He let out a low chuckle before pulling her fully onto his lap, her legs coming to straddle his hips.

"Bedroom?" He murmured against her skin.

"No." She gasped out as he began to unbutton her jumper so that he could place open-mouth kisses on her newly revealed skin.

"Right here?" He had stopped and peered up at her.

"Why not?" Her hand slipped down and began to unbutton his trousers.

"Did you intentionally wear a skirt today?" He muffled a groan into her shoulder as her hand freed his cock, stroking it.

"Possibly." She gasped as he slipped his own hand under her skirt, coming straight to her pants. He shoved them aside, dipping first one then two fingers between her soaked folds. She let out a loud mewl and he silenced her with a kiss.

She took a hold of his cock, shifting herself slightly so that she was positioned directly over him. He slipped his fingers out of her and they both moaned into each other's mouths as she dropped her self down onto his length, rocking her hips once he was fully inside of her.

"Oh yes!" She had thrown her head back, her eyes closed as she began to move herself up and down.

His hands were resting on her arse cheeks, cupping them, squeezing them as she progressively picked up speed.

"Fuck!" She whimpered, tilting herself back slightly, changing the angle.

He kissed her again as they both began to moan uncontrollably. He slipped one hand forward, brushing his thumb over her clit. That was enough to send her over the edge. She came with a muffled cry, as he kissed her again, dropping herself down on him. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, giving himself leverage so that he could plunge himself up into her. It only took three more thrusts for him to join her.

She dropped her forehead to his chest, both of them breathing heavily. As their breaths became more relaxed he started to press kisses on her cheek, her temple, the tip of her nose. She captured his mouth with hers and kissed him deeply. When they broke apart she smiled at him cheekily.

"Like I said, didn't think we'd make it to the bed!"

He nodded, "I like your foresight."

"Shower?"

"Mmm … sure."

She slipped herself off of his lap, pushing down her skirt. He stood up, pushing his trousers down, letting them fall to the floor before he stepped out of them. He took her hand and tugged her down the hall. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him in his purple shirt (her absolute favourite) with his bum cheeks sticking out beneath it.

A lot of the water ended up being wasted as they spent the majority of the time kissing. When they at last did clean themselves up the water had become rather cold. Molly's skin was covered in gooseflesh. She shivered slightly as they stepped out into the no longer steamy bathroom. He wrapped a towel around her, pulling her flush up against his body. She hugged him, resting her cheek against his chest as he rubbed her back with the towel. She hummed contentedly, and then let out a laugh as he moved the towel up to her head. She leaned back slightly and grabbed a towel of her own, mimicking his actions with his own head, mussing up his curls. He pouted slightly causing her to laugh more.

They moved to the bedroom and he pulled her down onto the mattress covering them both up with the duvet. He kissed her as she hooked a leg over one of his, stroking his calf with her foot.

"I always knew your bed would be unbelievably comfortable!" Molly stated matter-of-factly.

"Did you now? It is far more comfortable than your atrocity of a mattress."

"Hey!" She gave his arm a swat, he only smiled, "If you don't like my mattress so much than why I have you spent so many nights on it? And I don't mean recently, I'm referring to all those times you used my flat as a bolt hole."

He dropped his head down to suckle directly over her pulse point, "It was only made tolerable because you were in the bed with me."

"Hmmm … that did take some getting used to. When you first requested me to join you—" She stopped when he lifted his head and looked at her pointedly, "All right, you actually dragged me into the bed with you! But I didn't know what you were doing! What you wanted! What you're intentions were. I was a tad bit disappointed when I realized that all you wanted to do was sleep. That wasn't entirely fair, you know."

He gave her a saddened look, "I was … trying."

"Were you? Oh. Aww … I had no idea. I just kind of … let myself enjoy it, not thinking that you were … making a move on me …"

He let out a sigh, dropping his head back down, but this time to rest it on her shoulder. She gently pushed him down on to his back, moving her body up over his. She brushed back his messy, still damp, curls from his forehead.

"You look tired. You shouldn't deprive yourself of sleep Sherlock, it's not healthy."

He let out a sigh, "Is this what I'm going to have to put up with now? You coddling me?"

She rolled her eyes and poked a finger into his chest, "I am not coddling you. I am stating a fact. Depriving yourself both of food and sleep for so many hours, days even is not a wise thing to do! Slows you down my arse! I don't believe that for a second! Just give it a try Sherlock, take a thirty-minute nap, eat some protein, it doesn't have to be a full meal. Take care of yourself." She laid herself down on him, resting her cheek once more onto his chest, "If not for you, then do it for me."

He crossed his arms over her back, "Does it really worry you?"

"Yes."

He grew silent, burying his nose in her hair. A minute or so later he let out a sniff, "Fine. I'll give it a try."

She turned her head and placed a kiss into his skin, "Thank you."

They both quickly fell asleep, neither of them waking until the next morning. When Molly woke she discovered that she was in the bed alone. She thought she heard his voice, but she wasn't entirely certain. Perhaps Sherlock had to take a call. She slipped out from under the covers and grabbed one of Sherlock's many shirts that were lying about. She pulled it on, buttoning it up as she moved towards the bedroom door. She left the top four buttons open, so that the curve between her breasts was visible. Opening the door she stepped out and padded down the hall.

Her eyes caught sight of John standing by his chair, but the words had already begun to form in her mouth, she couldn't stop them from tumbling out, "Sherlock? Are you coming back to bed?"

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**DUN DUN DUN!**

**I just had to end it here! *cackles***

**Reviews make me smile! :D**


	7. Are You Coming Back to Bed?

**Oh! Oh! John is in for quite a shock isn't he?**

**Because of some of the things he says Molly is filled with self-doubt.**

**But Sherlock reveals to her exactly what it is about her that he loves so much.**

**In a rather … smutty way … *cough***

**Anatomy lesson anyone? :D**

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven – Are You Coming Back to Bed?<p>

* * *

><p>"Sherlock? Are you coming back to bed?"<p>

John spun about as Molly spoke these words. She let out a shriek, grabbing at the shirt she was wearing to cover herself up. Through John's movements Molly was able to see that Sherlock was sitting in his chair, wearing one of his dressing gowns. His face was expressionless.

John's mouth was hanging open. He looked to Sherlock, then to her, then back to Sherlock, "Bloody Hell. You two? You two are?"

"Excellent deduction, John. For once you are observing, not merely seeing."

Molly's face was bright red, she wanted nothing more than to scurry back to the bedroom but she found herself incapable of moving.

John continued to look back and forth from one to the other, "How long? How long have you two been … shagging?" He struggled to get out the word.

"Six days and fourteen hours." Sherlock deadpanned.

John's eyes grew wide, "Really? Christ, I thought it was years."

Molly somehow managed to find her voice, "Years?"

John glanced at her, "Uhm … yeah. He was always sneaking out, disappearing. And the way you two would look at each other, in the lab, when the other wasn't looking, Jesus I thought you two had been shagging all along! That's why I thought you were so pissed at him when I brought him to be drug tested!"

"Oh."

The room grew silent, thick with tension.

"Hang on. You thought I was shagging him even while I was engaged to Tom?" Molly looked at John with a furious expression.

All too aware of Molly's fury John held up his hands defensively, "No! Not then! I thought you had moved on like you said, clearly not." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

They all grew silent again. Then suddenly Sherlock jumped to his feet, moving around John to stand beside Molly.

"Yes, as you can see John we are happily together, now if you don't mind, which I am sure you will, I am taking her back to bed."

A horrified expression came upon John's face as Sherlock took Molly about the waist and moved her down the hall with him. John bolted for the door, rushing through it and hurrying down the stairs not exactly wanting to hear any of the noises they were surely going to be making.

"Jesus! Wait until I tell Mary!" He muttered to himself as he practically ran out of the building.

Sherlock had succeeded in bringing Molly to the bedroom, tipping her back down onto the mattress. Her face was still covered in a blush. She was rather mortified that John had found out about them the way that he did. She was also mortified by what he had said. Did anyone else think that about them? Sherlock had removed the dressing gown, revealing that he had had no other clothes on underneath it. As he worked with the buttons of the shirt she had put on she brought her hands up to his, clasping her fingers around him, stilling his movements.

"What is it?" He asked her.

"Did you - did you really used to stare at me, when I wasn't looking?"

He released the button from his fingertips, twisting his wrists so that her hands became encased in his own, "Yes." He brought one of her hands up to his mouth and kissed the palm, "I never once thought that John would notice. I underestimated him."

"Do you think anyone else thought … what he thought?"

Sherlock had started to kiss down her hand, onto her wrist moving along her arm before stopping when he came to the crease at her elbow, "Perhaps. What of it?"  
>"No-nothing I suppose."<p>

He dropped her hand, it falling to the mattress, he moved upwards so that his face was directly above hers, "There is something. Tell me."

She tore her eyes away from his gaze, biting down on her bottom lip, "John may have thought that, because he was always around us, whenever we were together, well at least the majority of the time. Greg-Lestrade may have had some possible thoughts too, but not so much as John. I highly doubt that anyone else remotely ever gave it a consideration, except for when it was revealed that my flat was used as one of your bolt holes."

"What exactly are you trying to say Molly?"

She let out a slow breath, "I'm not at all the type of woman that anyone would expect you to be with. I'm not ridiculously gorgeous like Irene Adler, nor do I look anything remotely like Janine. I don't ooze sexuality, I'm utterly ordinary. A bit mousy. Boring."

As soon as the words left her mouth she could feel rage rolling off of him in waves. She didn't dare look at him.

"Molly. How could you? How could you possibly think any of that?" He cupped her face in his hand, leaning closer to her, "Look at me. Please."

She slowly brought her eyes up to meet his.

"I was never sexually attracted to Irene. It was her mind that attracted me. Nothing more. Did John ever tell you that when we first met her she was entirely naked?"

Molly shook her head.

"That's how I identified her body in the morgue. Not because I slept with her. And Janine, why the Hell did you bring her up? I wasn't with her because I was attracted to her! You of all people know what I was doing with her! I spent some of the nights at your flat because of her! You don't need to 'ooze' as you put it, sexuality. I rather like that you don't. And you are not ordinary. Nor are you mousy. And you are in no way boring. Not at all. You completely and utterly fascinate me. There is so much about you, about your body that I still have to discover. To learn. I'll never grow bored of you."

He leaned his forehead against hers.

"Do you really mean all of that?"

"Would I say it, if I didn't?"

She gave him a weary look.

"Ahh right, point taken. But yes, I do, I mean it, every word of it. I love you. I love your body. I love the way your body feels around me. I love the way you make me feel. Sentiment and caring are a great disadvantage; they are both hugely distracting, but they are a good kind of distraction."

She grabbed a hold of him and kissed him deeply. He nimbly unbuttoned the last three buttons and slid his hand beneath the fabric of the shirt, slipping his hand upwards to cup her breast, squeezing it gently.

"Can I show you what it is about your body that I love so much?"

She gave a wordless nod. He pulled her upwards from the mattress so that she could take off the shirt. He tossed it unceremoniously to the floor then placed his hand on her shoulder and nudged her down flat onto her back.

For a few moments no words were spoken. He cradled her face in his hands, placing kisses on her forehead, tracing her hairline with his lips, the curve of her nose, the dip above her mouth, the shell of her ear. He stopped when he came to her mouth, his lips hovering over hers.

"I love your mouth. Your lips aren't too small. They are the perfect size, they mold directly against mine."

As if to demonstrate, he kissed her deeply. He broke apart the kiss and moved his mouth down her neck, not stopping until he reached the base of it, slipping out his tongue to drag it across her clavicle before nipping at it slightly with her teeth. He moved further downwards kissing along her sternum, reaching her breasts. He took one dusty pink nipple in his mouth, suckling it, before moving to the other. They were both now stiff peaks. She let out a soft whimper.

"I love your breasts. There is no lack of them whatsoever. They are adequately sized; fitting perfectly into my hands."

He cupped them both, the hard points of her nipples resting against his palms. He released them, replacing his hands with his mouth. He traced the areola of each breast with his tongue, before moving to open-mouth kiss the milky white undersides, nuzzling her nipples with the tip of his nose. He continued downwards, leaving a trail of wet kisses across her stomach, nipping at a beauty mark with his teeth, circling her navel with his tongue.

"I love your cellulite." He slid his tongue over a strand of it on her hip, "All women have it. Most men too. It's a sign of living and growing. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

He moved his hands over her hips, "I love your curves as well. You shouldn't hide them so much with your baggy clothing. Although, perhaps you should continue to do so. No need to have any other man know what you have hiding underneath."

She let out a giggle which quickly turned into a moan as he nuzzled with his nose the curls between the apex of her legs.

"Your Mons Pubis is quite exceptional but I must say I rather like your clitoris a bit more."

He lifted both of her legs letting them come to rest on his shoulders before he slipped his tongue ever so slightly between her folds, just barely touching her clit. Her legs shuddered slightly. He spread her apart with his thumbs.

"Labia minora." He dragged his tongue over it, "Labia majora."

She was moaning uncontrollably now, her fingers buried in his hair, her nails digging slightly into his scalp as he lapped at her.

"Your vagina is quite pleasing as well." He spread her further apart with his fingers and dipped his tongue into her, "And your taste, love how you taste. You're always so tight and wet for me." He slipped his tongue out of her and brought it back up to her clit, "The noises you make when I touch you here, I love them too." He enveloped her with his mouth and gave a hard suck.

She let out a feral cry, throwing her head back. He circled her clit with his tongue, before giving it a slight flick. Her legs were trembling around him now, as her orgasm washed over her. He lapped hungrily at her juices. Instead of moving back upwards he slipped further down, pressing a kiss each to the curve of her arse cheeks.

"Gluteus Maximus." Her murmured, slipping his hands underneath to give her bum a tight squeeze, "So soft, so round, so supple." He nipped lightly at her with his teeth before placing a kiss on one inner thigh, then the other. He lifted up one of her legs, sitting up slightly so that he could press his mouth to the spot behind her knee.

"Sherlock…" She moaned.

He stopped what he was doing and peered down at her, "Hmmm?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Are you – are you quite finished?"

He narrowed his eyes, "Nope." He popped the 'p' causing her to roll her eyes and drop her head back down to the pillow, she was panting slightly, "Why?"

She took a few deep breaths, "I need you. I want you inside of me."

"Hmmm…" He turned his head, dragging his nose along the inside of her leg which he was still holding up. His cock twitched. She was spread open for him, beckoning him, begging to be filled.

"Please!" She whimpered, hating it when he did this to her, and yet also loving it.

He smiled into her skin, "I can always finish later." He gave the back of her knee another kiss before moving himself forward, still holding onto her leg, "Should I take you just like this?" He bucked his hips slightly, so that the head of his cock teased her at her wet opening.

"Mmmm!"

Taking that as a yes he planted his knees more firmly, holding her leg against his chest, her ankle up by his head. He took his cock in his hand and positioned himself directly at her opening, sliding himself into her at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Her mouth formed a silent 'O' as he filled her completely. He cupped his other hand under her bum, lifting her up slightly off the bed. She wrapped her other leg around his waist, her ankle sitting directly atop his arse cheek. He rolled his hips, a low groan escaping his throat. He quickly settled into a steady rhythm of methodic thrusts. He watched in fascination as her breasts bounced with his movements. Neither one of them were going to last long. He hadn't realized how hard he had become while lavishing her body with his mouth and tongue. He could sense the all-too familiar build up, and he could feel her beginning to tighten around him. With one final surge of his hips they came together, both crying out.

He gently eased her leg back down to the bed before stretching himself out beside her and collapsing on the pillow. He cradled the back of her head with his hand and kissed her.

"Never doubt my love for you, never doubt." He murmured against her lips.

She shook her head slightly, stroking his cheek with her fingers, "I won't."

They kissed quietly for a time, before settling down against the pillows. Sherlock dozed sporadically, but Molly stayed awake. She watched the sunlight dance and move across the walls while listening to his steady breathing. When he shifted slightly, his breathing pattern changed.

"Sherlock?" She spoke softly.

"Mmm …" He turned his head and nuzzled her hair with his nose.

"Why do you like sex?"

He let out a soft huff, "What?"

She picked up her head, pushing herself up so that she was leaning on her arm, his eyes met hers.

"Sex, why do you like it? Knowing you, how you think, the way you view things, everything is so clinical, scientific. I always kind of thought that you would think of sex as being only useful to create life, not to be used for pleasure. 'The body is only transport.'" She tried her best to imitate him, as she said this. Her hand was on his chest, moving up and over his pectoral muscles, "I never expected you to enjoy it, as you so clearly do."

He grabbed at her hand and kissed her fingers, "I used to think of it like that. I never got much pleasure from it. And that was back in my uni days, I sort of looked at it as an experiment. Got me chucked out of several beds, that did."

Molly held back a laugh.

"But with you it's entirely different. It _is _still an experiment, but one that I never want to stop working on. I enjoy discovering the noises you make, the way our bodies move together. I enjoy it immensely, every second of it." He dropped his gaze from hers, "Do you know why I turned to drugs? Did Mycroft ever tell you?"

"No. He never spoke of it. Even after your relapse, he never said a word."

Sherlock laced their fingers together before continuing, "My mind is constantly going, it never stops. It is always calculating, taking in new information, storing it, analyzing it. For the most part I love it, I love that my brain has the ability to do this. That I can see things others don't. But it is also extremely exhausting. The voices in my head never grow quiet. That's why I push myself on cases, why I don't eat or sleep. So that once I am finished, I can collapse; delve into a deep sleep where there is no more noise. When I first discovered drugs it was cannabis but that only dulled my mind slightly, made the voices background noise. It wasn't enough. I tried cocaine next, and that was horrible. It only made everything more intense. And then I discovered heroin. That was complete and utter bliss. Everything died away. All that was left was silence. It was wonderful. But it was also extremely dangerous. It nearly killed me. If it hadn't been for Mycroft, it would have. That's why he keeps such a close eye on me." Sherlock stopped talking, taking a few steadying breaths before raising his eyes to look at her, "When I'm with you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, there is no more noise. You silence all of the voices in my head. When our bodies are connected, I only feel and hear you."

Molly pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply. He clung to her, holding her tightly up against him, returning the kiss with passion.

They spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between dozing and ravishing each others bodies. Mrs. Hudson had popped in to the flat with tea during one of these ravishing sessions and Molly had clamped a hand over Sherlock's mouth as he was about to yell at Mrs. Hudson to go away. Molly started to giggle as he glared at her. She had to bite down on her bottom lip to muffle a moan as he began to continue thrusting into her, not exactly giving a damn if Mrs. Hudson heard them. He was quite certain she already had. As soon as Molly was certain that Mrs. Hudson had returned downstairs she cried out, dropping her hand away from Sherlock's mouth to clutch at the bed sheet.

By the time they did surface from the bedroom it was late evening. After they had eaten the leftover food from Angelo's, Molly had gone to take a shower with distinct instructions for Sherlock not to join her. She had left him pouting in his chair.

After she surfaced from the steaming bathroom, toweling her hair she began to search for her clothes which had been strewn about. She quickly found her shirt and jumper, then her skirt and bra, but no where in sight were her pants.

"Sherlock, where are my knickers? Have you seen them?"

He was sitting on his sofa, once more wrapped up in a dressing gown, tapping away at his laptop. He gave a shrug in reply.

"Where the Hell could they be?"

He turned his head away from his laptop and looked at her, "Why not just go knicker-less?"

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**Hmmm ... what could he be up to? *wiggles eyebrows***

**Reviews are the best thing ever! :D**


	8. Go Knicker-less

**Sherlock is such a dirty man!**

**What does he have up his sleeve?!**

**Is it something a Bit Not Good?**

* * *

><p>Chapter Eight – Go Knicker-less<p>

* * *

><p>"Why not just go knicker-less?"<p>

Molly blinked at him. His expression was innocent enough, but she knew him too well. She was certain there was something going on between those blue-green eyes of his. He merely blinked back at her. With a loud huff she threw her hands up into the air and stomped back towards the bedroom. Sherlock smiled triumphantly.

She returned a few minutes later fully dressed sans-knickers. She was pulling on her shoes, hopping from one foot to the other, "I'm working the graveyard shift so I won't be done until morning. Do you want me to come back here, or go back to mine?"

Sherlock was once more looking at his laptop, "Probably best for you to go back to yours, you'll be exhausted I'm sure."

"Mmm, suppose your right." She walked over to him, straddling his lap, "See you later then?"

He leaned back, his hands curling around her waist before slipping down to cup her arse, "Yes. I'll text you."

They kissed, but when it began to grow heated Molly pushed herself away from him.

"You're going to make me late!" She exclaimed, getting up off of his lap, causing him to pout. She pressed another quick kiss to his lips then hurried from his grasp as he tried to reach out and grab her. She let out a cackle as she picked up her bag and hurried from the flat.

Sherlock grumbled to himself before standing up and walking to the window. He pushed the curtain away and peered down, watching as Molly stepped out into the cool air, taking a deep breath before hailing a cab. Suddenly she looked up and waved at him. He smiled and waved back. She really did know him well.

Several hours later Molly was elbow deep in paper work; dismal, dismal paper work. Working such a late night shift usually meant that there weren't many autopsies, sometimes there would be one or two, but mostly it was paper work. For whatever reason St. Bart's had refused to step up their technology and move all of their files into an electronic system; they preferred it to be in paper form. Thus meaning that Molly's hand had already begun to cramp. With a loud yawn she dropped the pen and pushed her chair back. It was time for a coffee break. She rubbed at her eyes, yawning again as she made her way down the hall towards the canteen. Once she had a cup of coffee in hand she made her way back to her office.

She could have sworn she had left the light on. Flipping the switch she let out a loud shriek, happy that she was able to stop herself from making a jump, for if she had she would have been doused in coffee, "Sherlock!" She exclaimed loudly.

There he sat, in her chair, with his feet propped up on her desk, smiling pleasantly at her.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, dropping his feet down to the floor, "I was bored! My inbox was full to bursting of trivial cases that I was able to solve through email and Lestrade had nothing for me, so I came here."

Molly stepped further into her office and closed the door behind her, setting her coffee down on the desk, "I already told you that you can't do any experiments on body parts in the lab. There's nothing here for you."

Sherlock stood up and walked around the desk until he was facing her, "Oh, that's where you are wrong. You're here." He slipped his arm around her and pulled her to him, allowing her to feel the bulge that was forming in his trousers.

Her eyes widened, "Sherlock no! Not now! We can't! What if someone would hear us?"

He gave a nonchalant shrug, "No one is around. Security won't be making their rounds for another hour. No one will hear us, but the dead."

She shook her head, "You do realize that's rather morbid, right?"

He pouted, "I thought you liked morbid!"

With a sigh she lifted her arms up until they came to rest around his shoulders, "Is this why you wanted me to go without my knickers?"

He smirked as he dropped his mouth down to hers, "Possibly."

As they kissed he stepped her backwards until she bumped into the wall. He hitched up her skirt, snaking his fingers over her folds.

"So wet already?"

Her hands were working furiously to unbutton and unzip his trousers, pushing it down passed his arse. His cock fell out into her hand and she gave it few pumps. He groaned as he dropped his head to her shoulder.

Cupping her bum in his hands he lifted her up slightly, "Put your legs around me."

She did as he asked and it brought their bodies closer, so that his cock nudged up against her. She placed her hand onto his chest, steadying herself, and with her other hand, still wrapped around his cock, she guided him into her. They moaned in unison, their mouths meeting as he became fully sheathed by her.  
>The rhythm wasn't slow, but fast, needy. His hips smacked against hers with every thrust, his pelvic bone pressing into hers. He mouthed at her neck, her head thrown back as he delved deeply into her again and again. He kissed her as her orgasm washed over her. He gave a final roll of his hips and was coming inside of her, moaning into her mouth.<p>

They parted, panting heavily. She slipped her legs down, her feet hitting the floor with a thud. He pulled himself out of her and she grabbed a nearby box of tissues so that they could clean themselves up.

"Why does sex have to be quite so messy?" He grumbled.

Molly giggled as she handed Sherlock the tissues. Once they were clean and decent she went and sat back down in her chair. Grabbing up the coffee that she had entirely forgotten about, pleased to discover that it was still hot.

"Do you think your appetite will ever be sated?" She asked him.

He had sat himself down on the edge of the desk, "No." He crossed his arms, "And neither will yours."

She raised her eyebrows, "Oh. I'm glad to hear it." She gave him a cheeky smile, "Are you going to stay here and watch me fill out paperwork?"

"Possibly."

She rolled her eyes, "Wonderful."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. But you will probably be bored."

He gave a shrug, "I have my phone." And with that said he whipped out his mobile and proceeded to occupy himself.

The rest of Molly's shift passed in comfortable silence. A couple of times she asked Sherlock for his input, remembering that he had been in the morgue during a few of the autopsies that she was going over. But other than that they kept themselves separately occupied.

By the time her shift came to an end she had nearly finished all of the paperwork (after consuming a few more cups of coffee) and was now ready to collapse into her bed. She rather hoped that Sherlock wasn't ready for another round.

"I'm not going to go back to Baker Street with you," She told him as she shrugged on her coat and they began to make their way out of the hospital, "I need to feed Toby, and put on some actual clean clothes and get some real sleep. After I shower that is."

Sherlock nodded, "I figured as much. Can I- do you want me to come back with you?"

"Do you want to? No shagging though!"

Molly was rather pleased when she saw an actual blush come to Sherlock's cheeks.

"Do you have to say that out loud?" He hissed.

She giggled, "Sorry! But I mean it!"

He hailed a cab, "I'll come with you. I could use some more sleep."

The ride to her flat was a silent one. Molly had to focus on not dozing off. Normally she didn't mind working the graveyard shift, but she also wasn't used to having constant sex. Not that she was complaining. She most definitely was not complaining. She shot a sideways glance towards Sherlock. He was staring out the window, appearing to be deep in thought. She couldn't believe that only a few days ago she had been trying her hardest to accept the fact that she would never be happy with anyone because she knew that no man would ever be able to live up to the expectations of him. And here she was sleeping with him! Had the world tilted on its axis?

Sherlock paying the driver brought her back to the present. The silence continued as they walked up the stairs to her flat. Toby let out a happy meow, rubbing his body between both their legs as they walked inside. They took off their coats and scarves and hung them up.

"I'm going to go feed Toby. Make yourself comfortable, change, do whatever you want." Molly said as she walked towards the kitchen.

After giving Toby his food, and sneaking in a few handfuls of crisps and a couple of glasses of water she made her way towards the bedroom, noting that Sherlock was no where in sight. The bedroom was empty too.

"Sherlock?" She called out.

"In here!" His voice drifted out from the dark bathroom.

She tugged off her jumper as she stepped in, but stopped when she saw that the room wasn't entirely dark. It was covered with lit candles. Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the filled bath, entirely naked. She gave him a pointed look.

"Have you been reading women's magazines?"

He gave a nonchalant shrug, "Possibly."

Shaking her head she removed her shirt as she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her socks, before unzipping her skirt. It pooled down at her feet. She then reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it join the skirt on the floor. She walked towards him, stepping in between his legs, placing her arms over his shoulders. He brought his hands up to rest on her waist.

"This is very nice of you. Thank you." She brought her lips to his and they shared a slow, sweet kiss.

"Get in the water Molly, before it grows cold."

He held her hand as she stepped in. She let out a contented sigh as the warm water enveloped her body. He followed her in, easing himself down. She tucked her arms about his middle as he leaned his back into her. In spite of the warmth of the water, her nipples had stiffened and were now pressing into his skin. He found the sensation to be rather delightful.

"Comfortable?" He asked her.

She let out a satisfied hum, "Yes." She had her hands splayed out over his stomach, her thighs resting on either side of his hips. She began to pepper his shoulder and neck with kisses. He tipped his head back, giving her more access. She brushed her nose against his jaw line.

"Why are you so beautiful?" She murmured, before suckling at a freckle.

"I'm beautiful?"

He could feel her faint smile.

"Yes. To me you are. You are practically an Adonis."

He let out a loud snort of derision, "If I'm an Adonis, than you're Aphrodite."

She chuckled, moving her mouth down to nip at where his neck met shoulder, "Hmm … goddess of love?"

"And beauty."

He turned his head slightly so that their eyes could meet.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

He let out a sigh before saying, "Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models …" He quickly added when she raised her eyebrows, "Your form is pleasing to me."

She let out another chuckle, "All right, I'll accept that."

They shared a kiss before he settled his head back against her shoulder. Neither one of them moved, nor spoke, staying in the water until it grew cold. They then quickly toweled off, blew out the candles and retired to the bed.

"I should probably eat something but I am much too exhausted to care at this point." Molly stated as she curled up under her sheet and duvet.

Sherlock placed a kiss on her forehead before tucking himself around her, "Eating can wait. Sleep now."

"You're not very articulate when you're drowsy."

"Mmmm."

When Molly awoke the next morning, well it was more-so afternoon; she discovered the bed to be empty. Not entirely surprised by this she grabbed a nearby t-shirt and slipped it on.

"Sherlock?" She called out.

When he didn't answer she padded out into the main part of the flat. He was no where in sight. She quickly spotted that his coat was gone from the hook. She worried her bottom lip, slightly disappointed that he hadn't even left her a note. Suddenly the sound of her text tone chirping cut through the silence of the flat. She quickly retrieved her phone from her bag, having completely forgotten to plug it in the night before. There were three texts from Sherlock and her battery was nearly drained. She hurried into the kitchen so she could plug it in to charge, whilst making coffee.

I didn't want to leave you but Lestrade called me in for a case. – SH

Do you know that you snore while you sleep? – SH

Don't be embarrassed. It's a perfectly normal body function. – SH

Molly rolled her eyes as she read through his texts. She waited to send a reply, wanting to get some coffee in her body first. She absent-mindedly made a couple of slices of toast, checking her fridge to see if she had any more eggs. Once she had the steaming brew before her, and had consumed a few sips, she unlocked her phone and began to type.

You snore too, you dolt – Mx

I do not. – SH

Yes. You do. – Mx

Don't be embarrassed. It's a perfectly normal body function. – Mx

That's not funny. – SH

She was positive that he was pouting at this very moment. The toast popped up and she quickly spread some butter and strawberry jam onto it. She settled back down at the table.

I'm only repeating what a genius told me. – Mx

What does the x by the M represent? – SH

"Smooth Sherlock, very smooth." She mumbled around her bite of toast. She put down the slice of bread and wiped her fingers before sending off a reply.

It means a kiss. – Mx

Ahh. – SH

XXX – SH

Molly let out a snort, practically choking on her coffee.

The same to you. – Mx

Several minutes passed without a reply from him. She finished her toast and coffee, taking note of the fact that she desperately needed to go food shopping. Her text tone chirped just as she was staring up at her empty cabinets.

Case is a possible homicide. Might take a few days. – SH

Sorry. – SH

I'll text you when I'm finished. – SH

Go get 'em! – Mx

Sherlock grew silent then. Molly quickly pulled on some more clothes, wanting to get the food shopping done and over with as soon as possible so that she could return home and relax. She wasn't entirely disappointed by the fact that Sherlock had a case to occupy himself with. She had several more nights ahead of her working the graveyard shift and she didn't exactly need him to show up and repeat his performance from last night. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy it; she just didn't need for him to get it into his head that it could become a common occurrence. She would like to keep her job.

* * *

><p>It was exactly four days later that Molly received a text from Sherlock that the case had been solved and that he wanted her to come to Baker Street. It was mid-day Saturday, and it just so happened to be her day off. She quickly showered and made her way over. She had missed him, just like the last time he had been working on a case she found that her body was aching for him. Upon arriving at Baker Street she rushed up the stairs and into his open arms.<p>

Clearly he had missed her too. She had just managed to shut the door behind her when he pulled her down to the floor and made quick removal of her clothing. In spite of his rush to get her naked, his movements grew slow and methodic, drawing out each and every thrust. A lot of their previous lovemaking had been rather fast and desperate. This was leisurely and loving. She whimpered and moaned beneath him; enjoying how he filled her completely. It was a slow build towards orgasm, and he dragged it out even further by refusing to touch her clit with his fingers until she begged him to. She rocked her hips up to meet his, crying out as she came. He let out a muffled groan into her shoulder, his own hips stuttering with the force of his orgasm.

"Sofa?" He suggested, after they had caught their breath.

She gave a silent nod, the hardness of the floor getting to her back.

He helped her stand then made a quick removal of the rest of his clothing; having only managed to undo his trousers and push them half-way down his legs before being overcome and too desperate to have her tightness around him. They both walked slightly unsteadily towards the sofa.

They collapsed down onto the leather. He grabbed a nearby blanket and pulled it over them. She snuggled under Sherlock's chin, letting out a contented sigh. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her. They both slept into the evening.

"Hoo hoo!" Mrs. Hudson called out as she walked up the stairs, carrying a tray of tea and some of Sherlock's favorite biscuits; she knew how the man could get while he was on a case. She walked into the flat, paying no mind to Sherlock's clothes strewn about, she was used to that. She carried the tray over to the coffee table and set it down.

"OH!" A loud gasp escaped her, her hand flying to her cheek, as she took in the sight before her. Molly and Sherlock were curled up together on the sofa, still fast asleep. Thank goodness they were covered by a blanket, for it was quite obvious they were both naked. She had heard the noises, those noises that had reminded her of her time with her husband, but she had never once thought that it was …

"What will John say?" She muttered softly to herself as she hurried out of the flat to get another cup.

She quickly returned with the tea cup, setting it down quietly on the tray beside the other one. She gave another look at the sleeping couple then made her way back down stairs, "Wonders will never cease to amaze me!"

Molly was the first to stir. She hummed softly into the curve of Sherlock's neck, stretching herself out up against him. His hand slipped over the curve of her back.

"Ahh … I see that Mrs. Hudson is now fully aware."

Molly turned her head, spying the tea tray on the coffee table, "Oh. Does that leave any one else?"

Sherlock was momentarily distracted by the sensation of Molly's breasts brushing up against him, "Mmmfff … Lestrade."

She sat up, letting the blanket fall and proceeded to pour them both a cup of tea, "Does Mrs. Hudson usually bring you tea in the evening?"

"Mmm … not always. She usually likes to after I've been working on a case. Don't know why exactly."

Molly took a sip before answering, "She likes to take care of you."

"Not my house keeper." He muttered beneath his breath.

"No. She isn't, but she does do a lot for you. Kind of like a second mum?"

"Mmm." He took the offered tea cup and biscuit.

A week later Molly was once more at Baker Street; she had been staying the night for the passed few days because his flat was closer to Bart's then her own. Yes, that was what she kept telling herself.

It was early morning and she had just settled down at the kitchen table (devoid of experiments) with a cup of coffee. Sherlock was still asleep. She had awoken around one-thirty a.m. only to discover that he was no longer in bed with her. She stumbled out of the bedroom only to discover that he was sitting on the sofa updating his blog and writing snide remarks on John's. Molly had slammed shut Sherlock's laptop and dragged him back to bed, telling him that he was being ridiculous and that he needed to sleep. As soon as he had settled back under the covers with her he realized that what she said was true. He pulled her close up against him and proceeded to fall back to sleep.

Molly finished her coffee and went to go take a shower knowing that Sherlock would probably sleep for several more hours. When she walked back into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her, she was surprised to find him sitting up in bed, tapping away on his mobile.

"You're awake!"

"Excellent deduction, Molly."

She glared at him, causing him to glance up from his phone.

"Mo-or-ning?" He spoke slowly, cautiously.

She rolled her eyes and began to search for clean clothes, "I only said that because I thought you'd be sleeping for much longer. I'm rather surprised."

"Ahh." He dropped his gaze back down to his phone, knowing that if he continued to watch her he would only want to drag her back into bed with him, "I have an experiment I want to start working on. Been putting it off. Foolishly."

She had dropped the towel to the floor and was stepping into a pair of knickers, "Oh! Will it bring you to the lab?" She asked excitedly.

"Mmm … nope. I can do it here."

"Oh." Her voice fell a bit flat.

She slipped on her bra and hooked it before gathering up the rest of her clothes to finish dressing in the bathroom. Sherlock lifted his eyes, watching her. When she returned to the bedroom she was fully dressed, wearing the tiniest bit of makeup and had her hair pulled back in her signature ponytail.

"Are you going to be starting your menstrual cycle soon?"

Her eyes flashed a warning, "No. I'm not due for a whole other week."

He hummed and returned to his phone.

"Keeping track of my schedule? Trying to pin-point when I will be in a strop?"

"Possibly." He avoided looking up, fearful that he had perhaps let himself fall into a major Not Good moment. John would surely berate him for this.

Molly only gave him a smirk, even though he didn't see it, "Trust me Sherlock, you'll know when the time comes. You'll prefer not to be around me when it does. Hell, I'd prefer not to be around me."

Sherlock slowly raised his eyes to her, "That bad?" He questioned.

"Yeah … I become really moody. I'm positive that almost everyone at Bart's knows my schedule. 'Uh oh, here comes the bitch from the morgue! Better run it's her time of the month!'"

He sucked in his bottom lip.

"Go ahead and laugh Sherlock, but it's the truth! It's as if I gain an entirely new personality. Didn't you ever notice?"

"Ye-es. You would at times seem particularly snappish. But I knew that it was just because of you menstruating, so I didn't really think much of it."

"You didn't think my personality changed?"

"No."

"Oh." She paused, looking down at her bare feet before peering up at him through her lashes, "There is one good thing about right before I get it though …"

"Oh?"

She sidled towards the bed, swaying her hips slightly, "My sex drive elevates."

His raised his eyebrows, "Does it now?"

"Oh yes. So you at least have that to look forward to!"

He reached out to grab her but she managed to jump away.

"Don't you dare! Wasn't three times last night enough? I swear you have the libido of a pubescent teenager."

He grumbled and leaned back into his pillow as she pulled on her shoes.

"Do you want me to come back here after my shift, or should I go back to mine?"

He waved his hand dismissively, picking up his phone, "Do as you please."

She let out a huff and he looked up.

"I would of course prefer you to come back here, but don't unless you want to." He stated quickly.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth, "Of course I want to, I always want to."

Molly's shift ended exactly two hours earlier than it was supposed to. Somehow the schedules had gotten mixed up and she was able to go home sooner than she had thought. This didn't bother her. She loved her job, found it very fulfilling, but she also loved the thought of returning home to Sherlock.

As she made her way to Baker Street she started to do some thinking. It was very possible that she may have done a little bit of off-scheduling. Judging by the way her body was feeling, how desperately she needed and wanted him, it would seem that perhaps her little monthly friend would be coming sooner than expected. If her increased sex drive was anything to go by. Or perhaps it was just the fact that sex with Sherlock was the most satisfying she had ever experienced and she couldn't seem to get enough of it. And it appeared that with him, the feeling was mutual.

After picking up some take away she let herself into 221. Sherlock had given her a key a few days ago, just in case if he wasn't home when she wanted to come to the flat. She had already surprised him a few times, naked and waiting in his bed. He seemed to have rather liked that.

As she climbed the stairs she could hear him puttering about in the kitchen. It actually sounded a bit like he was rushing about. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Molly!"

Sherlock had appeared out of nowhere, directly before her. This wasn't uncommon, but she still found it a tad unsettling.

"Gracious! Hello to you too! Something wrong?"

He was fidgeting and his eyes beneath his safety glasses kept darting towards the kitchen, "Wrong? No. No! Nothing is wrong. It's just, my experiment, I'm not quite done with it."

"Oh. Am I interrupting? I got off work early … that's why I am here now, is your experiment dangerous?"

"No, it's not dangerous. It's perfectly safe."

Molly let out a snort, "That'll be the day. Sherlock, the majority of your experiments are highly dangerous!" She moved to walk around him but he blocked her path.

"I'd rather you not see it."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Not see it? Since when are you so secretive? What the Hell are you doing? Did you steal another body part from Bart's? You better bloody not have!"

"No! I didn't. It's not that at all."

She ducked under his arm, and she could have sworn she could almost hear a whinge escape him. She moved towards the kitchen.

"If it's not a body part than I don't understand why I can't see it!"

She stopped in her tracks, midway into the kitchen, her eyes falling upon exactly what he had not wanted her to see. She sucked in a deep breath then slowly turned to face Sherlock.

"Are those my knickers? The ones I couldn't find?"

His eyes started to dart again.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES! YOU ABSOLUTE ARSE!"

Mrs. Hudson had just stepped out of her flat when she heard Molly erupt, "Oh dear!"

At that very moment John came walking into the building, popping in for a bit of a surprise visit. Although, he was rather worried he may just manage to show up during them sha-sha-nope he couldn't say it.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here!" Mrs. Hudson said to him, "I think they are having a bit of a domestic!"

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**OH OH! *cue dramatic music***

**Reviews make me want to update quicker! :D**


	9. Having a Bit of a Domestic

**Oh dear! What has Sherlock gone and done now?**

**Will their new-found relationship be able to survive this?**

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine – Having a Bit of a Domestic<p>

* * *

><p>"I think they are having a bit of a domestic!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.<p>

Molly's angry voice trailed down the stairs. John let out a sigh, shaking his head as he peered up at the door of 221B.

"What has Sherlock gone and down now? Don't worry Mrs. Hudson; I'll take care of it." He made his way up the stairs and when he entered the flat he saw a sulking Sherlock and a fuming Molly.

"John! Oh thank goodness! A voice of reason! Will you please explain to this utter twat how it is wrong, so many shades of wrong, to experiment on my knickers!"

John's mouth dropped open. He turned a thunderous glare on Sherlock, "You didn't!"

"He did." Molly spat.

Sherlock threw his hands up in to the air, "I only wanted to know the strength of the fibers!"

"Bollocks! That is complete and utter bollocks Sherlock! They're cotton! You could have used anything to experiment on! Why the Hell did it have to be my knickers? Those were a favourite pair of mine!"

John crossed his arms, "Well to be completely honest I'm not entirely shocked, he used to do experiments on my socks all the time. But a lady's pants Sherlock? A Bit Not Good. Even if they are your girlfriends."

Sherlock let out a loud harrumph, staring directly at Molly, "I took them because they were conveniently coated in your orgasmic flui-"

John cut him off, holding up his hand, "DO NOT finish that sentence."

Molly's cheeks blushed a bright scarlet red. No one spoke for several moments. John opened his mouth then closed it. He took a deep breath before he could say anything.

"Right, that's my cue, I'm leaving before this goes any further down that road. Apologize to her Sherlock and then maybe you'll be able to discover how great make-up sex is!" He gave his friend's shoulder a pat.

A loud snort erupted from Molly, "That is NOT going to happen."

John grimaced slightly and hurried from the flat. He said his piece, though he wasn't exactly sure how much good he did. Surely they would be able to work this out!

It was clear to Sherlock that Molly was still very angry with him. He took a step towards her, but went no further. His hands fidgeted, his fingers twitching.

"Was that really Not Good?"

She gave him a pointed look, "No. It wasn't, not at all. You took something of mine, and destroyed it. That's practically stealing, that is stealing! I wouldn't have minded if you took them to smell them or look at them while you're not with me, but to experiment on them? Not Good at all. You could have just asked. Maybe I have a pair that I don't particularly like anymore."

Her voice had softened as she came to the end of her speech; he moved a few steps closer. But when he reached out his hands to touch her she took a step back.

"I think I need some space."

His hands fell back down to his sides, "Space?"

"Yes. Just to clear my head. Have some time to myself." She rubbed the side of her face with the palm of her hand.

Sherlock shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, "Are you breaking up with me?"

Molly rolled her eyes, "Ever the dramatic! No! I am not breaking up with you. Couples do this all the time, especially ones that don't live together."

"We practically do." He pointed out.

She ignored his remark, "Sherlock please. Just let me do this."

He exhaled a long, drawn out sigh, "Fine."

"The lab is all right, and the morgue, I won't ban you from them. But don't show up at my flat, please. I'll text you; it will just be for a few days."

She took several steps until she was directly before him and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, which he didn't respond to. After a few moments she stepped away.

"Thank you." She murmured softly before exiting the flat.

As soon as he heard the front door close he breathed out a sigh. He slowly turned, facing the main room. Suddenly Baker Street felt abnormally empty.

* * *

><p>Molly didn't know why she had done it. Sure, he had pissed her off immensely, but was that exactly grounds for her to take a little break in their relationship? The man always pissed her off. It was part of his genetic make-up! At first coming home to an empty flat, just to Toby, was rather nice. She was able to catch up on her telly watching (and not have to listen to Sherlock's snide remarks about the inaccuracies). The quiet was rather nice as well. It was never quiet with Sherlock, unless he was deep in his Mind Palace.<p>

The first night alone she had stood in front of the long mirror in her bedroom, taking note of the love bites he had left in various places on her body, which were now starting to fade. But it wasn't until she slipped under the covers that her body started to ache. Well, a certain part of her body. She had grown accustomed to a rather somewhat daily schedule of pleasure. When she began to stroke herself, dipping into the faint bit of wetness, it just wasn't the same. She tried to conjure up memories, pretend that her fingers were his, but it didn't work. She pulled her hand out of her pants with a loud exhale of frustration. To say the very least, she was now feeling very miserable. She missed him. She missed him so much. Her fingers couldn't bring her any satisfaction, nor could the shower head. There was quite nothing like the feel of him inside of her. Nothing could compare to that.

Also, she never used to have trouble sleeping. But she had now grown accustomed to his warmth beside her, or him holding her as she slept. Even when he was busy with a case he would often come to bed with her, tapping away at his phone or laptop while she slept curled up beside him. The sound of his typing had actually lulled her to sleep. Now nothing seemed to do the trick.

She had become more absent-minded while at work. She would often stare off into a daze during an autopsy. And more than once an intern had asked her if she was all right.

Molly most certainly hadn't meant for any of this to turn into a punishment. She was angry with Sherlock for what he had done to her knickers, and in all honesty she did not want to know the details of what his experiment actually was. As she stood there her anger had quickly ebbed, replaced with a need to just be able to relax and not have to deal with The Great Mind of Sherlock Holmes for a few days. It was wonderful being in a relationship with him. She loved every minute of it. But it was also exhausting. She couldn't keep up with him. Not always. And it seemed that his little experiment had been the final straw.

No. She was not breaking up with him. She was most certainly not strong enough to do that. Nor had the thought ever once crossed her mind. Why would Molly Hooper break up with Sherlock Holmes when she had been pining after him for years? It was utter madness to even consider. It would destroy her.

By day three she had had enough. She couldn't believe that she had managed to last that long. And she was rather surprised that Sherlock had as well. He hadn't even texted her. He did show up in the morgue earlier that day, with Lestrade and John, to look over a body prior to being autopsied. And this was how Lestrade came to know about them.

After rattling off a rather extensive deduction, pointing out two mistakes that Molly had made, she had rolled her eyes and snapped at Sherlock before storming off.

"Lovers tiff?" Greg had asked, in a teasing tone.

"Mmm … yep." Sherlock quipped back, popping the p, continuing to stand over the corpse and peering at it with his magnifying glass.

Greg's eyes grew massive, and he started to splutter. John eyed him warily, and then realization hit him that he had no idea that they were together.

"You didn't know? About them?" John motioned with his hand from Sherlock to Molly, who had gone off to the other side of the room.

Greg shook his head, "Didn't have a clue. Bloody Hell … is she mad?"

John shrugged, "I think the pair of them are. They're perfect for each other, really."

Molly had overheard the entire conversation. She bit back angry tears, knowing that if Sherlock hadn't so cruelly pointed out where she had gone wrong with her autopsy predictions she would have jumped him and probably had her way with him right then and there, audience be damned. Gracious, what had the man done to her? Who was this sexual beast?

Later that evening, after doing a bit of food shopping, she had returned home to her flat. She had a long weekend ahead of her, an odd occurrence. She usually worked weekends and was surprised when she saw that she had been scheduled as 'off.' But she took it all in stride. She was kind of happy about it. She was determined to contact Sherlock and hope that he wanted to see her. She had gotten over the comments he had made, realizing that what he had stated was blatantly obvious, and that he merely just spoke in his usual Sherlockian way. He had not intentionally meant to her hurt her. Once she had put the food away she took out her phone and sent a text to Sherlock.

I'm sorry about snapping at you today. I miss you. I need to see you. Can you come over? – Mx

She readied herself for a shower while she waited for a reply, but she never received one. She worried her bottom lip, rather disappointed. The temptation was strong to send a text to John to see if perhaps they were still on a case, but she chose not to. Grabbing her MP3 player she set it on the dock in her bathroom and hit play. Music filled the room as she turned on the shower. She tested the water before stepping inside and shutting the shower door closed.

For several minutes she stood under the hot water, letting it cascade over her. One of her favourite songs came on and she started to sing along with it. Suddenly a large smooth hand slipped over her hip, coming to rest on her abdomen. A warm body (naked) molded itself into the back of hers.  
>"You didn't jump." A low baritone spoke into her ear.<p>

She leaned into him, "I knew it was you. I know your touch."

His other arm came around her, just beneath her breasts, his hand cupping one of them, his fingers playing over the bud of her nipple.

"Mmmm." She sighed into his touch.

"You were singing."

She couldn't stop the blush that came to her cheeks, "Yes. I was."

"Do continue."

She let out a shaky breath and began to sing, "And after all, you're my wonderwall." She stopped when she noticed that they were swaying back and forth ever so slightly, "Sherlock?"

"Mm?"

"Are we slow dancing in the shower?"

"It would appear so."

His chin came to rest on her shoulder. She slowly turned herself around so that she could face him. He moved a step forward, moving her backward so that the spray of the water didn't hit her in the face.

"What's gotten into you lately? You've been rather different … very attentive. Rather unSherlock-like. I'm not complaining, I like it … it just surprises me." She paused, "I mean before the whole experiment with my knickers thing, and today in the lab." She quickly added.

He grimaced slightly, "Sorry about that." He then gave a shrug, before he put his arms around her waist, pulling her to him so that the stiffened peaks of her nipples pressed into his chest, "I'm happy." He answered before kissing her.

She kissed him back, having missed the touch of his lips so much, before she stepped away a little, "I'm happy too."

He smiled and kissed her again, hugging her close to him.

"What exactly … were you doing with my knickers?"

He sighed, "You're better off not knowing.

"Try me."

He sighed again, "I wanted to look at your orgasmic fluids under my microscope. I was curious to know what it would look like. I took them because I didn't think you'd like me taking a swab from your vagina."

A loud snort erupted from her, "Well at least you had the decency to think that." She kissed him then pulled away, "That still doesn't explain why you basically destroyed my knickers though."

He twitched his mouth, "Well ahh … I wanted to see how your fluids would react to different chemicals … and fire."

She rolled her eyes, "Wanker."

"You know how I am."

She shook her head before giving him another kiss, moaning into his mouth when she felt his erection press against her. She broke apart the kiss, panting slightly.

"Can you stay the night?" She asked him.

He nodded, "I wouldn't be here if I couldn't."

She gave him a cheeky grin, "How about the whole weekend? I'm off, Saturday and Sunday."

"Yes." He nudged her further back until she was pressed against the wall.

"Sherlock! … mmm … not here!"

He had started placing kisses down the side of her neck, his hand massaging her left breast, the other resting on her hip.

"It's too uncomfortable, and slippery." She continued.

He let out a defeated sigh, "Fine."

After turning off the water they stepped out of the shower. She had moved towards the sink to get a couple of towels from the cabinet when he grabbed her from behind and held her up against him. His slick body pressed against hers.

"How about I take you just like this, so you can watch yourself in the mirror?"

The mirror was fogged over, but it was already beginning to dissipate. She could see his hand sliding down between her legs; he dipped a finger between her folds, stroking her ever so slightly. She closed her eyes, leaning back into him.

"You are so dirty! I like it!"

"Is that a yes?" He shifted his hips so that he nestled his cock between the cheeks of her bum, his fingertip moving upwards so that he could stroke her clit.

She silently nodded, unable to form words.

"Grab onto the counter." He told her.

She did ask he asked, gripping onto it tightly, bending forward.

"Watch yourself in the mirror. Don't close your eyes; I want you to watch yourself as I make love to you."

His hand was still stroking her; she could see them both clearly now in the mirror. She looked positively wanton, her skin flushed. Her legs spread apart. He pulled his hand away; she could see his fingertips glistening with her juices. He met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

"Watch as I fill you."

He shifted his hips away, then slowly delved into her. Her mouth formed a silent 'O' before a moan escaped her throat. It felt so good to have him back inside of her. He leaned forward into her, biting down on her shoulder slightly, holding himself still.

"God Molly, you feel incredible! I've missed you so much!" He gasped out, "Keep watching in the mirror, don't look away."

He began to thrust and she cried out, her grip on the counter tightening. He could enter her so deeply from this angle. It was somewhat mortifying watching herself enjoy being fucked from behind like this, but it was also somewhat exhilarating to see the pleasure that he brought to her shown on her face.

"Oh God, Sherlock!" She whimpered.

His hold on her hips was so tight; he was filling her with his entire length every time, his bollocks pressing up against her after every thrust.

"Don't stop! Please don't stop!" She moaned, "You feel so good! So good!"

She flicked her gaze onto his face. His eyes were closed, his face flushed, and his lips slightly parted. He looked as if he was in complete bliss, and surely he must have been.

"Molly!" He gasped out.

She moaned in reply, his eyes opened and met hers in the mirror.

"Touch yourself. If you can keep yourself steady, touch yourself. I want you to stroke your clit."

She shifted her left hand slightly, planting it firmly before letting go with her right hand and watching as she brought it downwards to her parted folds.

"Oh!"

The sensation was increased ten-fold by watching her finger touch her clit. Sherlock's thrusts increased in speed, he was entering harder into her now. Both of them were moaning uncontrollably. She continued to feverishly work her clit with her finger, both of them watching, fascinated by the sight of it. Then she was crying out as her orgasm washed over her. He gave one final thrust before emptying himself inside of her with a final groan. He put his arms around her, holding her to him, as they both panted heavily. He met her eyes in the mirror, before turning his head to place an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed, the image of them before her disappearing.

"For once John was right." Sherlock mumbled into her skin.

"What?"

"Getting into an argument is worth it, if make-up sex is what you have to look forward to."

Molly let out a laugh before turning her head so that they could kiss. They kissed deeply.

"I suppose another shower is due?" She asked.

He shook his head, "No. There's no point, I'm not finished with you yet!"

"Ohhhh…"

He slipped himself out of her and hoisted her in his arms, carrying her bridal style from the bathroom.

They fell onto the bed laughing. She pulled him down to her and kissed him. He moaned into her mouth. His hands began to wander, cupping and massaging her breasts. When they pulled apart to catch their breath he dropped his mouth down to first one nipple then the other. He had missed her breasts. And she had clearly missed his mouth on them as well. She arched her back up towards him, clawing at his skin.

"Molly … do your breasts become more sensitive pre-menstrual?"

"Yes." She whimpered, as he gave the tiniest flick to the very tip of one nipple.

"Hmmm … I think I rather like that."

"Oh God!" She gasped out as he bit down with his teeth.

He moved his mouth over to lavish his attention on the other one. When he was finished, her breasts were practically aching. He continued to kiss her skin, mouthing over the love bites that were now very nearly faded.

"Hmmm … seems that I may have to give you a few new ones." He nipped at her with his teeth, before suckling at the now tender skin. He repeated this several times, her squeaks and moans urging him on. Minutes passed as he lapped at her skin, teasing her with his teeth. She could feel his nearly hard erection pressing up against her.

"Are you ready again for me Molly?" He asked as he hovered his mouth over her glistening folds. She could feel his warm breath brush against her.

"Yes!" She cried out, wanting to feel his tongue on her.

But she didn't. He had pulled away. She moaned in frustration as he brought himself up to eye-level with her.

"What are you doing?" She asked him in an annoyed tone.

He chuckled, "I was going to make love to you again, but if you rather I didn't." He acted as if he were going to move away.

"Don't!" She shrieked, grabbing at him.

He chuckled again before pulling her onto her side, facing him, and hooking her leg up over him. He took his cock in his hand giving it a few strokes before sliding himself into her welcoming wetness. He kissed her as she moaned. He couldn't enter her quite so deeply from this position, but he wanted to face her this time, hold her closer up against him. After a few minutes like this, sharing several kisses, he nudged her onto her back, wanting himself deeper in her; needing to feel more of her around him. He lifted one of her legs up, until it came to rest on his shoulder, her ankle curled onto the back of his neck.

"Is that all right?" He asked her.

She nodded yes, and he surged his hips forward. She was completely opened up for him now, with her legs spread so widely apart. He kissed her deeply as their hips rolled together. She had one hand holding tightly onto her thigh, moaning loudly into his mouth as he continued to kiss her.

He kept his thrusts slow, wanting to drag this one out. He had missed her so much. And at first he had hated how much he had missed her, berating himself for how easily he had slipped into the tight grasp of sentiment and caring. But now, here with her, their bodies so intimately connected, he didn't give a damn. He pressed a kiss to her inner ankle, continuing with his slow thrusts into her wet warmth.

They continued like this for several minutes, reveling in the sensation that their bodies were creating together. But eventually her moans grew desperate; she started thrusting her hips up to meet his.

"Harder." She moaned, "Faster. Please."

He kissed her, increasing his speed as he slid his hands upwards, caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples that were oh-so-pleasantly sensitive.

"Fuck!" Her orgasm had hit, and the tightening of her walls around him sent him directly with her. She was positive she had seen stars form before her eyes.

He stilled, resting his forehead against her chest. After taking a few breaths he helped her bring her leg down, holding himself inside of her. They kissed lazily, he cradled her face in her hands pressing his lips to her eyes, her nose, her forehead, before bringing it back to her mouth. They curled up together. She pulled the duvet over them, and she sighed happily.

"Is that why couples do this?" Sherlock had broken through the silence that had fallen.

"Hmm?"

"Spend some time apart, so that when they get back together the sex is even better?"

Molly laughed softly, placing a kiss onto his chest, "Possibly. I don't really know. You thought the sex was better?"

He cupped his hand under her chin tugging her upwards, she moved with him.

"Yes. It was never terrible; it was quite enjoyable actually, but this, right now. That felt …" He trailed off.

"There's no word to describe it, is there?" She brushed his curls back from his forehead.

"No. There isn't."

She kissed him and he slid his hand down to her back, pressing her down on top of him.

The next morning the pair of them were in Molly's kitchen. They had managed to shower, after having a slow, lazy bout of sex. Sherlock's curls were still damp as he stood in between Molly's legs, taking a bite of the strawberry she offered him. She was sitting atop her kitchen counter, clad only in a pair of knickers and Sherlock's shirt. He had insisted that she was only allowed to do up one button. She curled her legs around him, dragging her ankles across is pyjama clad bottom. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

After popping a small strawberry into her mouth he kissed her, their tongues lolling across the fruit. He took a step closer to her, bumping slightly into the counter. He slid his hands over her hips, as their kiss deepened, before he moved them to the small of her back and pulled her forward, just until the cheeks of her bum were barely resting upon the edge of the counter.

The height of the counter was an advantage, bringing her up to be a bit more at his level. She groaned into his mouth as he pressed his erection directly against her core. He hooked his thumbs underneath the top of her knickers and started to pull down. He would have succeeded in his endeavor if the sudden sound of a throat clearing hadn't forced him to pull away from her.

"Brother mine, please refrain from your coital activities until after I have made my exit."

Molly felt Sherlock grow tense beneath her hands that she had placed on his shoulders. Their eyes met before he stated:

"Mycroft."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**Surprise visitor! What's he going to have to say?!**

**Reviews are my life-source! :D**


	10. Mycroft

**What is Sherlock's dear older brother going to say?**

**Will he be happy for them? Or no?**

**There's a scene further on in this chapter that had me snorting with laughter when I came up with it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten – Mycroft<p>

* * *

><p>"Mycroft." Sherlock deadpanned.<p>

Molly's eyes grew wide as saucers, "He's here? In my flat?" She all but squeaked out.

"Obviously." Sherlock muttered.

She began to button up the shirt, horrified that the elder Holmes should see her dressed in this manner.

"Think nothing of it." Sherlock told her as he pressed a kiss below her ear, before helping her down off the counter.

They walked together out of the kitchen. Mycroft was standing in the middle of the flat, dressed in an impeccable suit, leaning on his umbrella.

"What are you doing here, _brother mine_?" Sherlock questioned him with a sneer.

Mycroft returned the question with a glare, "Do forgive me for interrupting your carnal acts. Allow me to congratulate you on finding yourself a goldfish." His gaze softened as he looked at Molly, "Good morning Miss Hooper."

"Mo-morning." She stuttered; she had never been nervous around him before, but now she was just plain embarrassed.

His gaze returned to Sherlock, "I have been trying to contact you for the passed twenty-four hours. Mrs. Hudson hasn't seen you, nor has Detective Inspector Lestrade, or John. You turned off your bloody mobile!" He spat out.

Molly's eyes grew even wider than before. Sherlock had turned off his phone? He never did that! She stole a glance at him, he looked positively thunderous.

"What could possibly be so important? Has Moriarty decided to return from the grave again?" Sherlock crossed his arms in front of his bare chest, continuing to glare at his brother.

Mycroft let out a sigh, tapping the tip of his umbrella on the floor, "No. That is not it at all. The British Government is not in need of your assistance at the moment. No, this current problem touches far closer to … home." He grimaced slightly as he spoke the last word.

Sherlock's arms dropped to his sides, "No."

Molly looked from one to the other, not having a clue as to what was going on.

"I will not see him!" Sherlock all but growled, clenching his fists.

A pinched look appeared on Mycroft's face, "I'm afraid you have no choice. You know how he is. He came to the Diogenes Club yesterday morning, there's no avoiding him."

This time Sherlock did growl, "What the Hell does he want?"

Mycroft gave a dramatic shrug, "How should I know? You're the only one who ever fully understood him."

"Is that why you're here? To warn me?"

"Yes, and to also remind you of Mummy." His eyes flit over to Molly before returning to Sherlock, "You know how she worries. She'd be pleased to know that you at last found someone to … tolerate you. If you don't tell her, I just might do it myself." He spun on his heel, making his way towards the door, "Do be sure to tell Molly about the other one, it is clear by the expression on her face that she knows nothing about him."

Before another word could be spoken he had exited the flat. Molly stood there utterly dumbfounded. Sherlock walked over to the sofa and proceeded to curl up into a ball, his back facing her.

She rolled her eyes, knowing that he was most certainly entering into a full-blown sulk. She knew it was useless to ask him questions, at least at that moment; he would only ignore them or snap at her. Walking back into the kitchen she gave Toby's head a pat before pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee and making herself some eggs.

A half hour later she left the kitchen only to find Sherlock still sulking. That was it! She had had enough. She turned back into the kitchen to cook him some breakfast.  
>"Eat." She commanded, once she had walked over to the sofa, a plate of toast and eggs in her hand.<p>

Without a word he rolled over and sat up. She handed him the plate and he tucked in. Once he had emptied the plate she handed him a cup of coffee. He sipped it, still not speaking a word.

Molly wanted to know who Mycroft had been talking about, who was this 'other one?' But she knew Sherlock far too well. She couldn't just out-right ask him, because if she did he would just close himself off. He had gotten better at talking to her about different things, but she knew that with this that would not be the case. If he was going to tell her, it would be done on his own terms.

She leaned forward and began to press gentle kisses onto his shoulder, slowly moving down his arm, sliding her hand over his chest. The sigh he let out let her know that he was enjoying this. He needed a distraction; what Mycroft had said had clearly upset him.

Sherlock's eyes had fallen closed. She moved her hand down his arm, circling her fingers around the mug he was holding. She took it out of his grasp and placed it on the coffee table.

"Lie back." She told him softly. He opened his eyes, giving her a questioning look, before doing as she asked. She continued to kiss his skin, sliding her hand down his stomach before slipping it under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. He let out a muffled sigh, it turning into a groan as she wrapped her hand around his cock. He was already half-hard.

She shifted herself, sitting on her knees, "Lift up your hips."

He did and she pushed the pyjamas down to his ankles. Another groan escaped his throat as the cool air hit his newly revealed skin. His eyes flew open as she took him into her mouth. Usually she did so gradually, not this time. He was fully hard now.

He cursed as she moved her mouth on his, his mind going blank. He bucked his hips slightly when she added her hand. She reached up with her other one, lacing their fingers together. He wasn't going to last much longer. He squeezed her hand in warning but she paid no heed, continuing her ministrations. Minutes later he emptied himself down her throat. She kept him in her mouth until he was finished. She then let his now-softened cock slip out from between her lips. She pressed a kiss to the wiry patch of hair before sitting up, licking her lips.

Sherlock had his head thrown back and he was breathing heavily. She shifted once more until she was no longer on her knees. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

"You haven't smoked recently, have you?" She asked him, "You taste different, better."

He shook his head, still unable to speak. She brought herself closer to him, placing her hand on his chest, directly over his racing heart.

"If I suck you off more often, will you stop smoking completely?"

He made it look as if he were deeply contemplating her words, "Hmm … your mouth on me, or my mouth on a cigarette? Such a difficult decision!"

She gave his chest a light swat and he chuckled.

"Yes. I would. That is a perfectly sound negotiation."

"Good."

Their lips met and he kissed her hungrily.

"Can we go back to bed?" She asked him breathlessly between kisses.

"Yes!"

He kicked off his pyjama bottoms and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. He made a quick removal of her knickers and his shirt, tossing them both to the floor.

They kissed for a time, their hands wandering over each other's naked bodies. She jumped slightly when she felt his erection press up against her.

"So soon?" She questioned him, teasing the head with the pad of her thumb, "You recovery rate will never cease to amaze me!"

He silenced her with a kiss, grabbing her hand and pressing it down into the mattress.

"Sherlock?"

His mouth had started working its way downwards, leaving a hot trail of wet kisses, "Yes?"

"Care to join me in an experiment?"

He lifted up his head until he was hovering directly above her, his eyes were flashing with excitement, "Experiment?" He questioned, finding the blush that was covering her cheeks, to be rather delightful.

"Mmm … yeah. There's a position I've always wanted to try … but I never could ask any of my previous partners to do it with me. I don't know why really … it's rather silly of me -"

"Molly," He interrupted, "What's the position?"

* * *

><p>He was delving into her fully, amazed at how deeply he could enter her like this. She was beneath him, lying on her stomach. Her legs were pulled tightly closed, stretched out straight. Her lovely round arse was perfectly on view to him as he thrust in and out of her core. Clearly she was enjoying it as much as he was, judging by the noises she was making. He was teetering near the edge, feeling that all too familiar tightening sensation. He slowed his movements ever so slightly, wanting to drag it out, bring her over the edge with him. He rolled his hips, letting the tip of him press directly into the spot that made her scream. She moaned loudly into the pillow she had pressed her face in to. He repeated this action several more times, before resuming his previous speed.<p>

"CHRIST ALMIGHTY!" He suddenly exclaimed.

His whole body lurched. He pulled himself out of her, swinging his body around. Molly let out a disappointed whimper and lifted up her head to look at him. He was kneeling at the edge of the bed looking down.

"What's wrong?"

"You're bloody cat is what's wrong! It swatted at my scrotum!"

A loud snort of laughter erupted from her, she dropped her face back down into the pillow her shoulders shaking as she continued to laugh.

"Molly! I don't see as to how this is at all funny!"

She lifted up her head wiping away the few tears of mirth that had lurked out, "Sorry! But it is! My cat swatting at your bollocks! Oh my God! You know how cats are! They see any form of movement, swinging movement especially, and they think it's something to play with!"

He glared at her before sitting down on the bed and crossing his arms. Rolling her eyes she got up from the bed, scooped up Toby and carried him out of the bedroom. Upon returning she closed the door and walked over to Sherlock. He was, of course, pouting.

"Did he scratch you?"

"No."

"Can I have a look? Just to make sure?"

Her hand had already dipped down, lightly stroking his glistening cock that had started to soften, before slipping underneath and touching him there.

"Everything seems to be in perfect working order." She announced, coming to kneel on the bed before him, she moved her hand away from his bollocks and brought up both hands to cradle his face, "Can we continue, or did that destroy the mood for you?"

His eyes drifted downwards to his lap, "I'm not entirely sure yet."

With a cheeky smile she dropped one of her hands from his face back down to his cock, "I'll solve that problem for you." She kissed him as she took him in her hand and gave him a gentle squeeze before moving her hand upwards and downwards upon him. He groaned into her mouth. He could feel her smiling against his lips as he grew hard due to her ministrations.

She pulled her mouth and hand away from him, their eyes meeting, "Better?"

He nodded.

"We'll just have to make sure he's not in the bedroom from now on."

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Obviously."

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?" His eyes met hers once more.

"Can we, can we continue from where we left off? I rather liked doing it like that. It felt … incredible."

His smile was answer enough. She laid back down on her stomach, pressing her arse upwards ever so slightly, beckoning him to her, showing herself off to him. He could see her glistening, so wet for him, like always. He moved over to her, placing his knees on either side of her hips. She let out a wild moan as he slid himself back inside of her. He leaned forward until his chest was pressed against her back, rolling his hips but not thrusting.

"Oh Sherlock! Fuck!"

He smiled, nipping at her shoulder with his teeth, then the side of her neck. He rolled his hips again.

"Stop teasing dammit!"

He let out a loud gasp as she pressed her arse up to meet him, stifling a groan into her neck as he began to thrust in and out of her. They both thought that it would take a little while to return to nearing the edge of orgasm that they had previously been so close to, but they both were wrong. It only took several more thrusts, the head of his cock pressing hard into her Grafenburg-spot that sent them both into the abyss. She was practically wailing into the pillow, he could feel her shuddering around him. He let out a contented groan as he collapsed beside her, pulling her up against him, spooning her.

After a few moments of them catching their breath she turned about so that she could face him. She nuzzled his neck with her teeth before he tipped his head down so that they could kiss.

"Just think … you now have a new story to horrify John with!"

Sherlock let out a loud chuckle as he kissed her again. They lay together in comfortable silence. He had curled himself against her body, his nose brushing against her neck. It never ceased to amaze her how much the man loved to cuddle.

"If you have any more experiments you'd like to try … do share." He murmured to her as he nipped at her earlobe with his teeth.

Molly laughed, bringing her hand up to cup the back of his head before turning her face to meet his. They kissed and she smiled at him.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

He returned her smile then narrowed his eyes, "You can't stop thinking about what Mycroft said when he was here …" It wasn't a question, but a statement, "Hardly the right train of thought while we are discussing sexual positions."

Molly dropped her hand away, "Sorry."

He let out a sigh and rolled onto his back, "It's all right. You deserve to know." He spoke the last three words with a hint of disdain, "The other one."

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**Hmmmmmmm … who could the Holmes' brothers be discussing? *wiggles eyebrows***

**Moaning-in-the-morgue on tumblr is entirely to blame for that sex position Molly and Sherlock were doing … the link to the post ****is on my tumblr: sherlockian87**

**And yes, the scrotum swat is what had me snorting with laughter! xD I told you this fic was cracky! **


	11. The Other One

**Who is this elusive Other One?**

**Read on, and find out! :D**

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven – The Other One<p>

* * *

><p>"The other one."<p>

Sherlock let out another sigh before turning his body back over to face her, "The other one is my brother. My twin."

Molly's eyes grew large with surprise, "Twin brother? How come I never knew about him?"

Sherlock circled her navel with his thumb, "John doesn't even know about him, not many people do. He's been living in China for the passed thirteen years. He's a mathematician. We used to be very close, but then my drug habit got out of control and … we argued. I said some things I shouldn't have … like I always do … we haven't spoken or seen each other since. I don't know why he's suddenly come back."

Molly pressed herself up against Sherlock's body, "Maybe he wants to reconcile with you?"

He let out a snort, "Doubtful."

"Talk to him Sherlock, you'll never know unless you do."

He grumbled for a few moments, "Fine. Don't have much choice in the matter anyway. If he wants to see me, he'll make it happen. He is extremely stubborn."

Molly let out a snort of her own, "Then he is definitely your twin!"

Sherlock stopped her mouth with a kiss.

* * *

><p>It was Monday, mid-afternoon and Molly was in the lab. She was sitting in front of one of the microscopes, focusing on a slide, when she heard someone walking in.<p>

She continued to look through the microscope as she said, "Sherlock … come have a look at this."

"I'm not Sherlock."

She spun about with a gasp, nearly falling off her seat, coming face to face with 'not Sherlock,' "No. No you're not."

He looked like Sherlock. Same strange coloured eyes, same high cheekbones, and the same Cupid's bow lips. Other than that though, everything else was different. His hair was straight, not curly, and it was lighter in colour and cut shorter. His entire style of dress was different too; a bit more like John Watson. He had a bit of the scholarly-look about him too. Even his voice sounded different, not quite so deep, a bit softer.

Good God, the detective was rubbing off on her! She had basically just deduced the man! Though no where near in as much detail as Sherlock would have done. Realizing that neither had spoken for nearly an entire minute she stood and walked towards him.

"You're his brother, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'm Sherrinford. Sherrinford Holmes." He held his hand out to her, smiling warmly.

Definitely not Sherlock.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Mo-"

"Molly Hooper. Yes, I know who you are." He said, cutting her off.

Her eyes widened slightly, "Has Sherlock told you about me?"

"Mmm … no. Mycroft did. Sherlock is rather close-mouthed about a lot of things."

Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest, raising an eyebrow, "And you're not?"

"Not really, no." He flashed her another smile, "Basically I am everything Sherlock is not."

"Ahhh … interesting."

Just as she finished speaking Sherlock strode into the lab, looking down at his phone, "Molly! Lestrade has another body that he is having brought down to the morgue; I'll need to have a look at it." He was about to continue speaking when he looked up from his phone and spotted his twin standing across from her.

"Sherrinford." His mouth had formed into a thin straight line.

"Hello Sherlock."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock had strode over to Molly and was now standing directly beside her. She was surprised that he hadn't put his arm around her, and yet she wasn't actually all that surprised. He was not one for public displays of affection.

Sherrinford smiled, "I just came by to introduce myself to Molly, since I knew you wouldn't. I must be off though; I have a conference to attend. Molly, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope that I'll see you again soon." With that said he left the lab.

As soon as he was gone the tension in Sherlock's shoulders disappeared. Molly eyed him apprehensively.

"Very strange, seeing someone that looks just like you, but isn't you. Rather bizarre, really."

"Perhaps you should have gotten yourself engaged to him instead of to _Meat Dagger_. He's a much better look-alike." Sherlock all but spit out.

"Sherlock!" Molly exclaimed, giving his arm a good thwack with the back of her hand, "That was highly uncalled for!"

He grimaced slightly, rubbing his arm, "Sorry." He muttered.

She turned so that she was fully facing him, "What is it about Sherrinford that bothers you so much?"

Sherlock suddenly found the lab floor rather fascinating. She stepped forward so that she was the only thing in his line of slight. He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.

"You tolerate Mycroft, why can't you tolerate Sherrinford?"

He slowly let out a breath, "Growing up, we were inseparable. The three of us. Sherrinford didn't have the mind for deductions like Mycroft and I do, but he didn't need to. His ability to solve any equation you put before him was enough. He got that from our mother.

"He was the one who always was able to make friends, where Mycroft and I never did. Sherrinford and I went to different universities, and that's where my drug addiction began. He had always been able to calm me down, quiet my mind, and whenever I would piss someone off with my deductions he would protect me, but without his guidance, without him by my side, I was lost. As soon as I graduated, Mycroft put me in rehab. You know all about that, you saw my medical records the day of my fall."

Molly nodded and he continued.

"While I was in rehab, Sherrinford came to visit me. I put the blame solely on him; I told him that it was his fault that I ended up there. He told me that I was throwing away my gifts, much like what you had said to me that day in the lab when you slapped me. He had always been the stronger one, and it horrified me that I had led myself to believe that I was nothing without him. He was leaving for China; he had gotten a position as Head Mathematician at a university there. He had come to say goodbye. I told him to go to Hell. That was the last time I saw him. Until this morning."

She studied Sherlock's face for a moment before saying, "Why did he come back?"

"My brother is far more capable of accepting and showing sentiment and caring. He simply missed us and came home for a visit. Mummy and Daddy are positively ecstatic."

Molly bit back a smile, "Did you apologize to him? For what you said?"

"Apologize?" Sherlock scoffed, "Molly, that was thirteen years ago!"

She rolled her eyes, "Apologies don't have a sell-by date Sherlock."

He only harrumphed in reply. She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms about his middle; he hesitated for a moment, then placed his arms about her.

"There's another reason why Sherrinford came back to England."

"Oh?"

"He told me that he knew all about what happened, with Moriarty, and my faked-death, the whole Magnussen fiasco, and my drug relapse, my four-minute exile and the fake Moriarty's return. Mycroft had been keeping in contact with him, telling him everything. I had no idea."

Molly tightened her hold about him, remembering that awful day when she had thought that she had lost Sherlock for forever.

"Do you know what Sherrinford told me?" He asked her.

"What?"

"He said that he was proud of me."

Molly turned her head and placed a kiss upon his chest, "Now you definitely need to apologize to him."

Sherlock sighed and she stepped away from him.

"Come on; let's go see the body Lestrade is bringing in. And then you are taking me home." She began to pack up the slides she had been studying.

Sherlock leaned against the table, "Oh, I am, am I?" He asked, smiling.

She looked up at him, glad to see that his mood was improving, "Yes. You are. I have a feeling that I'll be starting my period very soon, I want to get in as much time with you as possible."

"Mmm … you're correct. I've been mapping out your cycle. You will begin menstruating tomorrow."

She blinked at him, "Of course you would know exactly when."

An hour later they had returned to Baker Street. Sherlock was quite set on taking her directly against the door as soon as they entered the flat but Molly had given him a look, and he knew better than to argue with her. He was rather disappointed.

"I need to eat first Sherlock, and so do you. A package of crisps each is not adequate."

Once they had eaten he had tried to make a grab for her, but she had ducked out of his grasp, stating that she was going to wash the dishes first.

"Molly!" He groaned, "You are driving me positively mad!" He pressed himself up against the back of her, letting her feel his prominent erection.

She only chuckled, "Sex on a full stomach? I expect you to know better Sherlock Holmes!"

"We've done it before." He muttered, before starting to place open-mouthed kisses on her neck, stopping to suckle on that one spot he knew made her grow weak in the knees. He slid his hand downwards, cupping her through her trousers, pressing his middle finger hard up against her. He was rewarded with a loud moan erupting from her throat.

"All right you horny bastard! You win!"

She could feel him smiling into her neck. She moved to walk towards the bedroom but stopped when he grabbed her hand. She looked at him and he shook his head.

"No?"

"No. In here."

He led her into the other room, walking passed the sofa, stopping when he came to his chair.

She raised her eyebrows, "Here?"

"Yes," He stepped closer to her, "I want to make love to you in my chair, Molly."

"Ohhh … is that what you want to do?" She took a step closer to him, and lifted up her arms so that he could pull of her jumper.

"Yes." He stated.

She made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. He slid his hands to her back to undo her bra, but found that he could not unhook it. When she let out a giggle as he struggled, he huffed in annoyance.

"What new contraption is this?" He growled.

She reached behind her and took his hands, bringing them to her front, "The clasp is here."

"Oh."

As soon as her bra fell to the floor, he cupped her breasts in his hands.

"They've grown larger." He noted.

"Yes, they do that sometimes. And they are still very tender, oh!"

He brushed his thumbs over her already hardened nipples, "I like them both ways."

He dropped his hands to her trousers, helping her out of them and her knickers. Then he took off his own trousers and pants. Now they were both entirely naked, having long ago removed their shoes and socks.

"Have a seat." He beckoned to his chair.

She smiled up at him before walking over and lowering herself down, hissing slightly as the coolness of the leather hit her skin. He tapped the arms of the chair with his fingertip.

"Put your legs up here, I want you spread for me."

She did as he asked, blushing ever so slightly. They had had sex in the living room before, but never quite anything so out in the open like this.

"God Molly," Sherlock groaned, "You're always so wet for me, aren't you?"

He placed his hands on both arms of the chair, below her legs, and held himself directly above her pink, glistening center, stretching his legs out straight. This wasn't going to be an entirely comfortable position, but at the moment, he didn't care. He entered her with one swift, deep thrust.

She cried out, grasping onto her calves for leverage as he delved into her again and again. He varied his movements from shallow to deep. She was moaning loudly now, with a few curses thrown in. His pelvic bone was pressing directly against her clit every time that he entered her.

They kissed as he continued to thrust, his hips smacking against hers. She moved her hands from her calves, to his sides, slipping them downwards until they gripped his arse. She threw her head back, moaning extremely loud as he gave a particularly hard thrust. The head of his cock was pressing directly against that oh-so-lovely spot inside of her.

"Oh, Sherlock oh! Yes!"

He was quietly chanting her name, over and over, reveling in the tight, wet heat of her surrounding him. He covered her mouth with his, silencing her cry as he felt her climax around him. He gave several more thrusts before his hips stuttered and he held himself tightly against her as he came.

She dropped her legs down so that her calves were now resting by his hips. He had fallen to his knees. She held him to her, his face buried between her breasts. She kissed the top of his head, trying to catch her breath. He said something, she could feel the rumble of his voice, but she couldn't make it out.

"What Sherlock?"

He moved his head so that his cheek was lying on her left breast, "How am I going to be able to survive a week without being inside of you?"

Molly couldn't help but laugh at his dramatics, running her hand through his sweat-dampened curls, "You've gone days without, when you have been on a case. I think you'll be fine. I'm not changing my mind; menstrual sex is just … no!"

He let out a resigned sigh.

"Perhaps you'll find a case?" She suggested, "Then you'll be able to focus on that."

"Hmmm." He returned his face to between her breasts.

* * *

><p>Sherlock did just that, finding a triple-murder that took him out of London for the entire week.<p>

Shame you'll miss me at my worst. – Mx

Probably best that you're not here, while I go through this. – Mx

There will be plenty of other times, Molly. Use a hot water bottle, I've read those help. – SH

It does help, and I do use one, but only when I'm home. – Mx

Speaking of your flat, I left something there for you. – SH

Later that evening when Molly returned home, she found two Tesco bags on her kitchen table. One was filled with feminine products, the ones she always bought, and the other was filled with several packages of crisps, two bars of chocolate and a note that told her their was ice cream as well. She found herself giggling as she pulled the items out of the bags, trying to imagine Sherlock shopping for her. Perhaps he had forced John to do it for him, or had one of his Homeless Network do it. Pulling out her mobile she sent off a text.

Thank you XXX – Mx

Make yourself a cup of tea and relax. Put on one of those silly films you always watch. – SH

She giggled again, wondering where this incredibly sweet and caring Sherlock had been hiding all of these years. She hoped that he wouldn't ever disappear.

During the rest of the time that Sherlock was gone, Molly found Sherrinford popping by in the lab and morgue more and more often for a visit (it seemed that all the Holmes boys had free-reign of St. Bart's). It was nice; it made her miss Sherlock just a tiny bit less. And her mood improved when she was around him, something she was certain that her co-workers were happy about. When Sherrinford asked her to join him for dinner, she gladly accepted.

"I haven't had fish and chips in years." He stated as they settled down at a table in a pub he had told her he used to frequent, "The food in China is great, some of it a bit bizarre, but I do miss good old English food."

"How come you've stayed away for so long?" Molly knew her question was rather blunt, but she also knew how the Holmes' were; they preferred to be asked directly.

Sherrinford contemplated her question for several moments, toying with the paper coaster, "At first it was for legitimate reasons. Traveling from China to England isn't a very quick trip, not exactly one you want to take and only stay for a few days before going back. Also there was my job, it takes up a lot of my time, I also help in the research department. I did have plenty of chances though, opportunities to come back, I just didn't take them. I didn't exactly know if I would be welcome." He paused as their beers arrived.

"You mean by Sherlock."

"Yes. I've kept in close contact with both my Mum and Dad, and Mycroft, but not with him."

"Sherlock told me that Mycroft kept you informed about all that he was doing."

Sherrinford nodded, "I asked him to. I was worried about Sherlock. And for a long time I did blame myself for what happened to him. You see, I actually am older than him, but only by five minutes. But still, it made me feel responsible for him. He did not have an easy time growing up, both he and Mycroft. Their lives were very isolated. That was entirely their choice really. I'm glad that he's cleaned himself up though, and that he's been so successful. And also that he's found someone."

Molly felt herself blushing under his strong gaze, it was so very much like Sherlock, and yet not.

"He's very lucky to have you. I always feared he end up alone. I'm glad that he isn't. It's clear that you are good for him." Sherrinford continued.

Her blush grew deeper, "He's good for me too." She took a large gulp of her beer.

"Never thought I'd be jealous of my brother, but I am."

The glass nearly fell from her hand.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to be quite so blunt."

"No, it's all right; I'm rather used to it."

They shared a smile.

"How long are you here for?"

"Only until next week, the conference ended yesterday, and I'm driving tomorrow to my parents. I'll spend the rest of my time there, before flying back to China."

Their food arrived and they tucked in.

"Have you ever been to China?" He asked her, spearing a piece of fish with his fork.

"No. But I've been to Japan once, it was a summer holiday, went to Kyoto. It was beautiful."

"China is beautiful too. Where I am, in Shanghai is extremely metropolitan, the city is massive, but when you get out into the countryside, it's positively amazing."

"You don't think you'll ever permanently come back to England, then?"

He grabbed up a couple of chips, "No. I really don't. I've become so acclimated to the Chinese way of life, I really love it there. It is remarkably different from England."

A silence fell for a time.

"Would you ever consider coming to China for a visit? I'm sure you'd like it."

Molly laid down her fork, "I don't think that that will be likely."

"No? Good. That means you're devoted to him as much as I hoped you were."

"Were you just testing me?"

"Possibly."

"Bloody Hell, all you Holmes' are positively maddening."

Sherrinford laughed heartily, "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure that you were serious about him. I already knew that he was serious about you; my brother doesn't stop talking unless it's about something that involves sentiment. That's why I showed up at the lab that day; I had to know the woman that had managed to melt my cold, unfeeling brother."

Molly rolled her eyes, "Sherlock is neither cold, nor unfeeling, he's just built up a barrier around himself to protect his mind from being taken over by his emotions." She paused, Sherrinford was smirking, "Who, who was Redbeard? He mumbles the name sometimes while he is asleep."

The smirk fell away, replaced by a frown. The same crinkle as Sherlock's, between the eyebrows, appeared on his face, "Redbeard was our dog. He got sick with cancer, and had to be put down. Sherlock loved him. Redbeard was the closest thing he ever had to a friend growing up and his death devastated him. I honestly think Redbeard is the reason why Sherlock closes himself off so much. He's afraid of experiencing that loss again. That's why he didn't allow anyone to get close to him for so long. I never got a chance to meet John, but he must be quite a man."

Molly smiled, "He is. What John did for Sherlock, it amazes me."

"Don't give John all the credit. Sherlock knew you long before John entered into his life. I'm quite certain you played a part in it all."

"I-I suppose. I never really thought that before."

Later that evening Molly returned to her flat and was delighted to discover that her period was at its end. Now all she needed was for Sherlock to finish up his case so he could come home to her. She hadn't told him this, but not only was her sex drive increased before she got her period, it was also directly after it ended.

She had just finished showering and was about ready to pull on her pyjamas and crawl into bed when her text tone chirped. She silently berated herself when she felt her heart rate go up.

Solved. – SH

Do come to Baker Street if you so desire. – SH

Come anyway even if you don't. – SH

She furrowed her brows at his strange, cryptic messages. She was used to him speaking oddly through text, but this time it seemed even more so. She fired off a reply, letting him know that she would soon be on her way.

After rushing through her clothes she grabbed a hold of her black lace bra. It was see-through, and she had only bought it once on a ridiculous whim. All it took though was for her to wear it one time and see the look on Sherlock's face when he went to remove it. She knew he would never admit to it out loud, but he liked it. She decided to go sans-knickers, no use in creating another barrier! After pulling on a pair of trousers and a jumper she yanked on her shoes and rushed out of the door, grabbing a hold of her bag and keys along the way.

"Bye Toby!" She called out, just as the door slammed shut behind her.

The taxi ride to Baker Street seemed to her to take abnormally long, even though there was hardly any traffic. She just hopped it up to anticipation. As she wiggled her foot in annoyance, bits and pieces of her conversation with Sherrinford drifted through her mind. Had the man been flirting with her? She shook the thought out of her head and focused on Sherlock.

Arriving at Baker Street she paid the fare and let herself in. All was quiet in Mrs. Hudson's flat, not so much so in 221B; she could hear Sherlock playing his violin. Molly was rather surprised by this, knowing that he didn't usually play it unless he needed to think. The case was solved, what could it be that he was thinking about? She hurried up the stairs looking forward to, and quite willing to allow him to take her anywhere he so desired.

When she entered the flat Sherlock was standing at the window, his back to her. He was dressed in his pyjamas, wearing his tartan dressing gown. He stopped playing as soon as she entered and put the instrument down. He spun about facing her.

"Molly."

She eyed him warily, his tone was odd, nothing like the way he usually spoke to her.

"Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer her, instead he flung himself into his chair, pulling his dressing gown about him. He was avoiding looking her in the eye. This was not at all the welcome she had expected. It was clear that he was in some sort of mood. He was never in a mood after he solved a case. When he at last spoke to her, her mouth dropped open at his choice of words:

"If you want to go with him then go, I won't stop you."

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**Oh oh! Jealous and suspicious Sherlock? Oh dear!**

**Have any of my readers seen The Last Enemy with Benedict Cumberbatch? Did anyone catch on to the fact that I somewhat created Sherrinford into his likeness? ;)**

**Again, another sex position thanks to moaning-in-the-morgue ;) Link to it on my tumblr sherlockian87**


	12. If You want to go with Him, then Go

**Jealous!Sherlock … such an interesting form to see him in.**

**How will Molly handle this one?**

… **anyone up for another anatomy lesson? Hehehe!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Twelve - If You Want To Go With Him Then Go, I Won't Stop You.<p>

* * *

><p>"If you want to go with him then go, I won't stop you."<p>

Molly's mouth was hanging open, she couldn't believe what she was hearing, "Sherlock. What the Hell are you talking about? Go with whom?"

He pulled his dressing gown tighter around him, "Sherrinford." He spat out the man's name as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth, "I know he asked you to go back to China with him. He likes you, and I know you like him."

Her eyes flashed with fire, "How dare you! How could you possibly think for one moment that I would choose him over you?! I barely know him, and it is now very clear to me that you do not know me as well as I thought you did. I would never leave you. The thought has never once crossed my mind. But it appears you think I am capable of that. I'll come back later, when you are not in such a strop because right now you are being absolutely ridiculous. And for the record, he didn't ask me to go to China with him; he only asked me if I would ever come to visit!" She shook her head, and moved to exit the flat.

She would have succeeded in doing so if it had not been for the fact that Sherlock had rushed over to her, spun her about, and crushed her petite body against his.

"You're not leaving me?" His voice was muffled because he had his face buried in her hair, but she understood him.

"No! You bloody fool! I am _not _leaving you!" She held tightly on to him.

He lifted up his head and looked down at her. She moved her hands up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"I do like your brother, but he's not you. I fell in love with you. I love _you_."

Sherlock rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He was still holding her pressed up against him.

"I'm sorry, forgive me?" He opened his eyes and peered down at her, "I shouldn't have thought what I did."

She stood on her tip-toes and placed a gentle kiss upon his mouth, "You are forgiven. And no, you shouldn't have thought that at all. How did you even know?"

"Sherrinford called me. He didn't say anything exactly; I merely deduced it by the tone of his voice."

She shook her head, "Why do you believe that you don't deserve to be loved?"

"I'm a terrible man, Molly. Sherrinford is the only good one out of us three."

He felt her fingers tighten around his curls, "You are not a terrible man!" She stated fiercely, "Nobody is perfect, Sherlock. Yes, you sometimes say and do cruel things, but you are also capable of being both caring and kind. You deserve to be loved just like anyone else. You are loved. Not just by me, but by John, Mrs. Hudson, your mother and father, even Mycroft. And you know that Sherrinford loves you."

Sherlock dipped his head down to the hollow of her neck, letting out a slow sigh, "I've missed you Molly."

She laid her cheek up his curls, "I've missed you too. I expected you to pounce on me the moment I entered the flat, not be told to go off with another man."

He groaned, "Sorry. Again. So much for sentiment and caring, all it's done is turned me into a jealous man."

She chuckled, "Oh, I think it's done quite a bit more for you than that."

After a few minutes more of standing in this manner she placed her hands on either side of his face and lifted up his head so that their eyes could meet.

"Will you let me prove to you how much I love you?"

He took note of her dilated pupils, certain that his were mimicking her own. He gave a wordless nod. With a cheeky grin she took a hold of his hand and led him towards his bedroom.

She undressed him slowly then removed her own clothing, making him watch, and not help her. When she pulled her jumper off his eyes widened in delight when he saw the black lacy bra. He lifted up his hands but she shook her head. He pouted, dropping them back to his sides. Once they were both entirely naked she nudged him towards the bed and he fell on his back onto the mattress. He dragged himself upwards until his head hit a pillow. His dark curls were a strong contrast against the white.

Molly crawled her body up over his, planting her hands on either side of his head, "Keep your palms on the mattress. Don't touch me."

They looked into each others eyes for a moment before she dropped her head down and kissed him deeply. He groaned softly into her mouth as she dragged her tongue across his before nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth. She pulled away from his mouth and began to place kisses along his jaw line, before moving upwards.

"I love your zygomatic bones. They're so defined." She traced each of his cheekbones with the tip of her tongue, "And your jaw line is rather dignified as well." She moved her mouth back down, nipping at him lightly with her teeth, "I love your Cupid's bow lips. They are always so soft and warm. And the things you can do with them … mmmm!" She kissed him, before proceeding on.

"Sternocleidomastoid." She murmured as she dragged her lips down the length of his neck, "Such a long name, for such a long muscle," she briefly stopped midway to suckle at a beauty spot, before continuing down. She stilled when she came to the dip at the base of his neck, where it met his sternum, "Sternal head … clavicle … I love them all!"

She slipped her hands over him, "Pectoralis Major, such a beautifully defined chest you have." She took one taut nipple in her mouth, lapping at it with her tongue before moving to the other one.

Sherlock was breathing heavily now, she could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath her palm. He moaned as she continued to lavish his body with kisses. As she reached his stomach she slowed down, taking the time to drag her tongue across, and place her mouth against, each and every scar; some more fresh than others. She brushed her nose against his navel, positioning herself carefully so that she didn't yet touch his erection. His moans were beginning to grow more desperate.

When she reached his hips she let out a moan of her own, "Mmm … I absolutely love your iliac furrow … so sexy … although I do rather like it's more common name, Apollo's Belt." She brushed her nose up and down both before dragging her tongue across each, followed by her mouth.

"Molly!" He gasped out, his cock twitching.

She smiled, stealing a glance up at his face. His lips were parted, his eyes were closed and his face was flushed. She loved it when he looked like this.

"There is though, no part of your anatomy that I love quite so much as your … cock." She pressed her lips ever so lightly to the glistening tip.

A low groan escaped his throat as she slid her tongue over the frenulum before delicately slipping it over the glans. She then moved her mouth away to lightly flick at him with her tongue. His whole body twitched. She chuckled softly as she softly brushed her nose down the length of him. His hands were clutching at the bed sheet. She nipped at his scrotum with her teeth, before sliding her tongue over the same area. He had lost all control over his noises.

Picking her head back up, she took in her mouth as much of him as she could, and gave him a hard suck, humming around him. He threw his head back into the pillow.

"Fuck! Molly!" He groaned.

With a soft pop she released him from her mouth, "Are you close?" She asked him.

He opened his eyes and peered down at her before wordlessly nodding. She gave the head of his cock a final kiss before sliding her body upwards, careful to avoid brushing her wet center over his.

She straddled his stomach and picked up his hands, bringing them to rest on her hips. She brushed back his curls from his sweaty forehead, her own hair brushing against his chest, before placing a kiss between his brows.

"Molly …" His voice had dropped to a low whisper.

Their lips met in a hungry kiss. His fingertips dug into her skin, holding her down. She groaned; the pressure that his hands created was causing her clit to rub up against his abdomen.

"What do you need Sherlock?" She panted against his mouth, "Tell me what you need."

"You!" He gasped out, "I need to be inside of you!"

She smiled down at him before moving her hips until they were hovering directly over his aching cock. He squeezed her with his hands, helping her to hold herself over him. He could have pushed her down, but he didn't, letting her stay in control.

"Do you need me Sherlock?" She dipped her hips downwards just enough so that she could rub her parted wet folds over the head of him.

"Yes." He moaned, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Do you want me?" She moved so that the head was now resting against her sopping wet opening.

His eyes flew open, meeting hers, "YES! Always. I'll always need you! I'll always want you!"

She slid herself down his length, gasping as his girth filled her completely. They shared a moan as she settled her hips against his. He brought his hands to the small of her back as she leaned forward and they kissed.

"Oh God Sherlock! I love how you make me feel when you are inside of me!"

She drew herself up and off of him almost entirely before dropping herself back down, mouthing at his jaw line. Her movements were so slow; she wanted to drag out the sensation as long as possible.

"Molly! My Molly!" He panted into her skin as he kissed her shoulder.

"Yes Sherlock! I'm yours!"

She placed her palms onto his chest, holding herself up slightly. He opened his eyes, looking up at her as she brought her movements to a standstill, keeping him nestled inside of her.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love." She quoted softly to him.

"Shakespeare." He murmured his voice thick with desire.

"Mmm …" She leaned down and kissed him, lifting herself off of his cock before dropping herself back down on him, hard.

"Molly!" Sherlock gasped.

She smiled down at him as she pushed herself up to a fully seated position. She let out a small yelp as he followed her upwards so that they were both now sitting. He tugged her legs so that they were wrapped around his waist, resting on the mattress. She moaned as she continued to move herself up and down him, taking him in fully. He held her close to him, her breasts pressed up against his chest as he kissed her deeply. He rolled his pelvis directly up against her clit and she moaned loudly into his mouth, her nails digging into his back.

"Oh God Sherlock!" She panted out, "You feel so good!"

He tilted her back slightly so that he could take her breasts into his mouth, sucking on each nipple in turn. She threw her head back, her lips parted as she increased her speed on him.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" She cried out.

He cupped her bum in his hands, holding her steady so that he could rock his hips along with her movements. The noises she was making were surely to be his undoing, if not that than at least the tightness of her around him.

"Molly, you feel so incredible!" He gasped out against her skin.

She let out a whimper as he arched his back slightly shifting the angle that he entered her as she continued to ride him. It was only moments later that they came in unison. He had never before heard her scream so loudly. She collapsed against him, her body now limp. He cradled her in his arms, his mind deliciously fogged.

They stayed like this for several minutes, until he shifted her slightly so that he could slip himself out of her before laying her down on her back. He stretched out beside her. Neither one of them bothered to clean themselves up. She laced their fingers together, before lifting up their joined hands and kissing the top of his.

"So … did I prove it to you?" She asked.

He answered her with a kiss, "Yes. Most definitely yes." He kissed her again and could feel her smiling against his mouth.

She was still holding his hand, some minutes later. She lifted it up, having recovered some of her energy and was studying his long, slender fingers.

"I love your hands too, you know? They're so … large. And quite lovely. They are just as talented as that mouth of yours." She pressed a kiss to each pad of his fingers. Once she had laced their fingers back together she dropped their hands down to the mattress. Her eyes fluttering closed.

"Molly?"

She hummed sleepily in response.

"Do you think we should change our living arrangements?"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**Ooo ... that's a bit of a shocker coming from Sherlock eh?**

**The line that Molly quotes to Sherlock is from Shakespeare's, Hamlet ;)**

**Reviews are life! :D**


	13. Living Arrangements

**Looks like Sherlock is ready to take their relationship to the next step, but is Molly?**

* * *

><p>Chapter Thirteen – Do You Think We Should Change Our Living Arrangements?<p>

* * *

><p>"Do you think we should change our living arrangements?" Sherlock questioned.<p>

Molly's eyes flew open, she was no longer feeling all that tired. She tilted her head so that she could look at Sherlock directly, "What do you mean exactly?"

He moved himself until he was hovering over her, bringing his hand up to brush back her hair from her forehead, "What I mean is, I want you to live here, with me."

She blinked at him, "Why?"

He let out an annoyed huff, "How could you ask that? It's so blatantly obvious!" He quirked an eyebrow and glanced down at her naked body beneath his.

Instead of the pleased smile that he expected she looked angry, very angry. With one great shove of her hand she pushed him away. She sat up, slipping out from beneath the sheets and began looking for her clothes that had been haphazardly thrown about.

"Molly … what on Earth are you doing?"

She couldn't find her bra (he thinks he kicked it under the bed) so she pulled on her jumper before answering his question. Her trousers soon followed and she still hadn't said a word. What had he done now that was Not Good?

"Molly?"

She spun about, facing him, "Sherlock, the answer is no. I am not moving in with you. I am not going to start living here just so that you can have me at your beck and call to fulfill your sexual needs. I am not your sex toy."

"Sex toy?" He repeated, slowly. His eyes widened in horror, he sputtered, he actually sputtered, "Molly! That's not what I meant at all!"

She rested her hand on her hip, "Really Sherlock? You made it all too clear that that's exactly what you meant! And after all I said and did for you tonight …" She shook her head, a downcast look coming to her eyes.

He knew that he needed to fix this. It had not gone at all in the way that he had intended it to. What had he done wrong? He quickly searched through his Mind Palace as Molly continued looking about the room for her shoes. He hit upon it suddenly. She let out a great shriek as he grabbed her about the waist and pulled her back down to the mattress.

"Sherlock! Don't!" She cried out as he began to shower her face with kisses.

"Hush Molly! Allow me to make this right!"

She dropped her head back down to the pillow and glared up at him, hoping to God that Sherlock wouldn't turn on his puppy dog eyes. Anything but that. She couldn't resist those damn eyes of his.

He looked at her with a sad expression, "I'm sorry that I made you think what you did. That's not how I think of you at all. The sex is … an advantage to our relationship, a very enjoyable advantage, but it's not the only reason why I am with you. Molly, before we entered into this relationship I only ever found true happiness when I had a case, preferably a murder case. There is nothing though that can compare to the rush I feel when I am with you. And I don't just mean when we are in bed (or on the sofa, or my chair) … MMF!"

She had given his head a light swat.

"Right, sorry. I want you here with me, all the time, because I feel empty when you're gone. Baker Street doesn't feel right anymore unless you are here. It's not just for convenience, although that will be rather nice, it's because I don't want to be alone anymore, and I don't think you do either."

She let out a slow breath, before bringing her hands up to rest onto the back of his neck, gently massaging the skin there, just the way he liked it.

"We hardly ever are alone, Sherlock. You are either at mine, or I'm here."

"Exactly. Just think of the money we will save on not having to pay cab fare anymore!"

She started to laugh, and he visibly allowed himself to relax.

"I don't know Sherlock. That's a very big step to take. We haven't been together for all that long."

He snorted, "Do you not spend ridiculous amounts of time perusing those celebrity magazines? Have you not seen how quickly some of those people get married? In our case I don't think it's a very big step at all, I'm not asking you to marry me (yet), I just want you to live here."

Molly forced herself to keep her eyes under control, certain that she had not just heard Sherlock hint that he intended on asking her to marry him. He continued to peer down at her, anxiously awaiting a reply.

"Sherlock … I … I don't know. I can't give you a definite answer. Not yet. Is that all right? Can I think about it? Please?"

This was not at all what he wanted.

He let out a disappointed sigh, "Fine. Think about it." He rolled off, turning his back to her, and curled up into a ball.

Molly let out a slight puff of air; she quickly pulled off her jumper and trousers before slipping her body up behind Sherlock's, spooning against him.

"I'm not saying no, Sherlock. Giving up my flat, making this my permanent home … it's a lot to take in. Maybe your amazing brain can wrap itself around that concept easily, but mine can't. Please try to understand that."

He struggled to ignore the fact that her naked body was now pressed up against his. He wanted to pout, he wanted to sulk. He hated not getting his way.

"Please Sherlock." She started to place open mouth kisses onto his back, stopping to suckle at a beauty mark every now and then.

Damn. She knew exactly what to do to make him entirely compliant. Her hands started to drift downwards. He gave a slight shriek (no he did not!) when her fingers came into contact with his bum and gave it a tweak. He could feel her chuckling into his back.

He got his revenge by twisting himself about in one rapid motion; she yelped. He grabbed her hands, lacing their fingers together and pushed her down onto her back, pressing their joined hands into the mattress as he hovered over her. If you could call that hovering, his stomach was brushing up against her, as well as other hardened parts of his anatomy.

"Sherlock!" She gasped out.

He smiled wickedly down at her, "Say you'll move in with me." He dipped his hips forward.

"NO!"

He grumbled, pressing himself further up against her, "Please?"

She shook her head.

"Dammit Molly!"

"You can not entice me with sex Sherlock! That won't make me say yes."

He continued to grumble, lifting his hips away from hers, "You are extremely stubborn."

"Look who is talking."

A low growl escaped his throat. He released her hands and dropped his body down beside her, inching away slightly.

"Honestly Sherlock, you are like a toddler who isn't being allowed to get what they want!"

He turned his face away from her.

"STOP IT! You're being ridiculous!" She sat up, peering down at him.

In one swift movement he was sitting up as well, "Isn't this how a relationship progresses? I know that I'm not well-versed, nor very knowledgeable about these things, but isn't this how it usually all goes?" He gestured wildly with his hands while he spoke.

She grabbed a hold of his hands, and moved to sit on his lap; his hardened member had faded quite a bit.

"Sherlock," She placed his hands onto her back, he had no choice now but to look her directly in the eye, "This _is_ how relationships usually go; people do tend to move in with each other. And I really do appreciate you trying, I know that this has all been rather strange for you, and it means a lot to me that you want to actually do this."

"So why won't you?"

She bit down on her lip, surprised that he actually sounded like he was whinging.

"I'm not saying that I won't! Just not yet."

He pouted, furrowing his brows so that they formed the scrunch directly above his nose. She leaned forward and nipped at his protruding bottom lip with her teeth.

"Maybe I'll say yes tomorrow?"

He groaned dropping his head to her shoulder.

"Why is it so important to you for me to say yes, straight away?"

He moved his hands up her back so that he was holding her close, "Because I want you here with me, always."

She mimicked his gesture, laying her cheek onto his shoulder, "I'll give you my answer tomorrow. Is that soon enough?"

He humphed and she dug her nails into his back. He gave a slight flinch and she giggled, dropping one of her hands further downwards to give his bum another pinch.

"Stop it!"

She giggled again but her laughter ended with a gasp as he shoved her down onto her back, her head nearly hanging off the edge of the bed.

"You're impossible." He growled.

"Mmm … so are you."

He dipped his head down and kissed her, "Tomorrow better come quickly." He stated between kisses, "You … not so much."

She gasped again as he moved his hand down between their bodies.

* * *

><p>"So what do you think? What should I do?"<p>

Molly was sat on the Watson's sofa, holding their nearly one-year old daughter Emily, in her arms. John leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Mary gave him an encouraging look.

"Molly," He started, "We can't make the decision for you. We can't tell you what to do; it's entirely your choice."

She sighed, "I know John, it's just, you've lived with him! I wanted to make sure that you weren't going to tell me outright, 'oh God don't!'"

John chuckled, "Yes well … I will tell you this, you'll probably want to murder him at least twice a day (if you already don't!), he's quite the slob, except with his experiments (if you haven't noticed), and there is almost always a body part in the fridge … but you're usually the one who provides him with those, so why I am telling you this?" He paused, "Sherlock clearly wants you to be with him; he wouldn't have asked you other wise. I honestly never thought I'd see the day that this would happen, but I'm glad that it's with you. You're good for him Molly. He's a changed man because of you."

She peered down at Emily asleep in her arms.

Mary chimed in, "If he ever starts to act like a bigger dick than usual, just remind him that I can and will come over and kick his arse."

Molly snorted then quickly checked to make sure that she hadn't woken up Emily, "Thank you, thank you both." She looked up at them, smiling.

John mirrored her smile, "You already made your decision, long before you came over, didn't you?"

Molly nodded, failing to keep her smile from widening, "Yeah … I just wanted to be reassured, that's all."

John chuckled again, "Yes well … when you decide (more like he decides for you) to attach yourself to Sherlock Holmes, you need all the reassurance you can get!"

Molly returned to her flat shortly after leaving the Watson's home. She slowly walked through each room, Toby rubbing himself against her legs. As she did this she found that nearly every memory that she thought of had to do with Sherlock. She wrapped her arms tightly about her middle. Yes, she had made her decision.

She would not miss this flat. She had made it as homey and comfortable as possible, but it had never felt quite right; now she knew why. It was time to let go of the old and begin with the new.

Speaking of new, she had almost entirely forgot about the shopping she had recently done the last time she had gone out with Meena. Hurrying into her bedroom she opened her wardrobe and began to burrow through the things she had piled on top of the bag to hide it. She had done so purposely, in case Sherlock stopped by and was in a snooping mood. She did not want him to see this, not yet.

Grabbing the bag she stepped away from her wardrobe and pulled out the negligee. She felt rather ridiculous as she stared at it. Meena had more or less teased her mercilessly until she bought it.

It wasn't entirely sexy, although it did show a fair bit of skin. There wasn't any lace or see-through bits, it was just that it was very much so … _her_. The fabric was of the softest silk, it felt almost sinful against her skin, much like Sherlock's fingers. And the colour was a pale pink, rather similar to the shade of her pair of knickers that he had _experimented _on. She didn't know if she had done that purposely to tease him or not.

The negligee was flowy and light, and hugged her curves in all the right places. It fell to just above her middle thigh, covering her just enough. She felt quite beautiful when she wore it. She could only hope that Sherlock felt the same.

She laid it out on the bed before she walked out of her room and made her way towards the kitchen. As she made herself a cup of tea she pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson, it's Molly, Molly Hooper. I was just calling to see if Sherlock was home or not."

"Oh hello dear, no Sherlock hasn't been in since earlier this afternoon. That handsome Detective Inspector came by, so I suppose Sherlock has a case. Why didn't you just call him?"

"Thank you, I would have, but I have a surprise for him and I wanted to bring it to the flat without him knowing about it."

"Ahh, I see."

After talking with Mrs. Hudson for a few minutes more Molly rung off and finished her tea. She took a quick shower and put on some warm clothes, noting how the temperature outside seemed to have dropped recently. She tucked the negligee into her bag and hurried to Baker Street.

Sherlock still hadn't come back by the time she arrived there. She made her way up to 221B and into his bedroom before making quick work of removing her shoes and clothes before slipping on the negligee. She settled herself against the edge of his bed, but when she started to shiver she grabbed one of his nearby dressing gowns and slipped it on. Now warmer, she sent off a text to Sherlock.

Busy? – Mx

Lestrade had a case for me, a pathetic four. – SH

Solved it, then? – Mx

Yes – SH

Where are you? – SH

Baker Street – Mx

Come at once if convenient. – Mx

If inconvenient, come anyway. – Mx

She chuckled to herself as she sent the last text, knowing that he would probably be annoyed by her stealing his line. Deciding to soften the blow a little she quickly sent another text.

I have an answer for you. – Mx

His reply came almost immediately after hers had been sent.

I'll be there in 10. – SH

She silenced her phone and placed it on the nightstand before returning to sit on the edge of the bed. She hugged her arms about her middle, anxiously waiting to see his reaction to both her answer and her negligee. Ten minutes never seemed to take so long to go by.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs caught her attention. She stood up, dropping her hands to her sides.

"Molly?" Sherlock called out.

"Bedroom!" She sang to him.

He quickly appeared in the doorway, he hadn't even bothered to take off his coat and scarf. She smiled at him as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"You have something to tell me?" He asked as he continued to move towards her.

"Mmmhmm. But first," She reached out and took his hand, bringing it to rest on the knot she had tied to keep the dressing gown closed, "Untie me."

His eyes flitted downwards. He stepped closer and quickly undid the knot, when the dressing gown dropped further open she watched as his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh." He spoke this slowly.

He moved his hands upwards, gently easing the dressing gown off her shoulders so that it could fall into heap at her feet. She continued to silently watch as his eyes moved over her.

"Do you like it?" She asked, breaking through the silence that had fallen.

He only nodded before slowly moving his hands over the silky fabric, "It's very _you_."

She smiled up at him, "That's what I thought."

His smile mirrored hers. She slipped her hands beneath his coat, moving them over his chest until they came to rest on his shoulders.

"Now … are you ready for my answer?"

She had leaned closer to him, her lips hovering directly before his. Again he silently nodded.

"Yes." She whispered.

His eyes widened again, before they filled with happiness. He crushed her to him, kissing her deeply. He was bound to snog her breathless. She unwound his scarf, tossing it to the floor; his coat soon following. Not breaking the kiss, he eased her down onto her back on the bed as she unbuttoned his shirt and he undid his trousers. As soon as he was entirely naked they parted for air. She dragged herself upwards until her head hit a pillow. Sherlock moved his body over hers, studying the pink silk that she still wore.

"This really is rather lovely Molly, shame that you won't be wearing it for much longer, but for now … it stays on." He dipped his head down and took one of her breasts into his mouth, sucking on the already-stiffened nipple through the fabric. She moaned softly. By the time he was finished lavishing each of her breasts with his attention, the silk was entirely soaked.

"I think I may have ruined it Molly …" He said cautiously.

"Take - take it off!" She told him breathlessly.

He did so, tossing the possibly ruined negligee to the floor. A soft moan escaped her lips as the cool air of the room touched against her now exposed breasts.

"Ohhh…"

He had cupped them in his hands, warming them with his palms, rolling her pebbled nipples between his fingers. They teased each other mercilessly for half an hour, not allowing either one of them to reach fruition. Molly was now straddling his stomach, having just been dangling her hips over his aching erection, barely allowing her soaking wet center to touch him, much to his annoyance. She only gave him a wicked grin, pressing herself forward so that he could feel how wet she was for him.

"Dammit Molly!" He groaned.

Before she could get out so much as a chuckle he had suddenly grabbed her about the bum and lifted her up, moving her forward. She let out a yelp, then panted heavily as he positioned her directly over his face. Her legs on either side of his head.

"Oh God!" She whimpered as Sherlock worked his tongue in-between her folds, thrusting it into her hot, wet center, stroking her inner walls, "Fuck!" She groaned.

Her hands moved to hold tightly onto the headboard, her knuckles turning white. He had yet to put his mouth on her there, only having touched and teased her with his fingers.

His large hands were now cupped around her arse, holding her in place above him, as he continued to dip his tongue in and out of her; he nuzzled at her clit with the tip of his nose.

"Oh!"

He was lapping at her hungrily now, as if he hadn't drank in a thousand years. His fingertips were digging into her soft skin, trying to continue to hold her in place as she uncontrollably moved her hips along with his movements. He slipped his tongue out of her, dragging it upwards until his mouth wrapped around her clit. He gave it a long drawn out suck, just the way she liked. Her legs were beginning to shake, a sure sign that she was close; as if her noises weren't indication enough.

Moving one hand forward he slid two of his fingers into her dripping wet center as he continued to drag his tongue across her clit. He held his hand steady, allowing her to ride his fingers. He suddenly felt the all too-familiar tightening of her walls, with one last suck on her clit she came around him. She cried out loudly, a great shudder running through her legs. He removed his fingers, placing a few gentle kisses on her clit before cleaning her of her fresh flow of juices. She let out a few soft mewls.

He gave a gentle nudge upwards with his hands; with a slow exhalation of breath she released her hold on the headboard. He helped her lift herself off of him. He laid her down on her back so that she could catch her breath. He sucked his fingers clean then wiped his mouth and chin clear of her juices. She was still breathing heavily, but was watching him with lust-filled eyes.

"What brought that on?" She asked breathlessly.

He gave her a rather cheeky grin before sidling up along side her, his erection coming to rest on the top of her thigh. Her eyes flitted down to it before moving back up to meet his.

"I wanted to give it a try."

"Ahhh … can we do it again sometime? I uhh … rather liked it."

"Absolutely." He leaned forward to kiss her, pleased by the fact that she didn't mind tasting herself in his mouth.

Several beats passed in silence.

"Sherlock …?"

"Mmm?"

Her hand had snuck down and she gave the head of his cock a stroke with her fingertips. He jumped then groaned into her neck as she wrapped her hand around him.

"Why do you like my bum so much?" She asked as she released his cock, pulling her hand away.

"Mmmfff … what?"

She smiled, and repeated her question. She felt the puff of air he let out more than heard it.

"Didn't I already tell you that?"

She giggled, "Tell me again."

He leaned his head back slightly, popping his eyes open. Her fingertip ghosted directly over the tip of his cock. He sucked in his bottom lip.

"Tell. Me."

She gave him another barely there touch.

"Your bum is soft, round, and supple. It is the same milky white as your breasts, and just like your breasts, your bum fits perfectly into my hands."

"Mmm … good answer." She dragged a finger down his length, watching as his eyes fall closed, "Care to join me in another experiment?" She brought her finger up the other side of his cock, it twitching slightly.

"What- what experiment?"

She loved it when he stuttered, a sure sign that he was extremely aroused. She sat up, giving his cock another teasing stroke. His eyes were still closed, and his lips were slightly parted.

"Lie back." She instructed him, "And open your eyes, you're going to want to watch."

His eyes flew open, meeting hers. He did as she asked, lying flat on his back, his erection jutting out from his hips. She gave him a wicked smile, much like the one she had given him earlier.

"Don't put your hands on me, until I tell you, you can."

He raised an eyebrow, always liking it when she turned commanding. He laid his hands flat down on the mattress at his sides. With bated breath he watched as she crawled over him, situating her center directly over his, her legs on either side of his hips. But she wasn't facing him. No, she had her back to him. She was giving him a perfect view of her bum.

He wanted nothing more than to cup her in his hands. But he didn't, remembering what she had told him. His mouth dropped open as he watched her take his cock in her hand, holding herself directly over him. A loud groan escaped his lips as she eased herself down. He watched, completely mesmerized, as his length slowly disappeared inside of her.

She leaned forward, her hands planted on either side of his knees, giving him a clear view of his cock buried deeply in her. She was so wet and pink around him. Ever so slowly she began to move, lifting herself off of him, until just the tip was left inside before dropping herself back down. Her bum cheeks smacked against his hip bones and he let out another groan. She had put herself on display for him.

"Can I – can I touch you now?" He croaked out, desperate to have her soft skin beneath his hands.

"Yes Sherlock, oh!" She had tilted her hips slightly, causing him to enter her at a different angle, "You can touch me now!"

He slid his hands over her bum cheeks, spreading them apart just a little bit more so that he could gain an even better view. She let out a little gasp as he lifted his hips up to meet hers, feeling the head of his cock pressing directly into that lovely little spot that always made such feral noises erupt from her.

"Oh God!" She cried out, she began to ride him more desperately, increasing her speed as she continued to take him in completely.

"Molly, this feels so good!" He groaned, not sure if the increase in sensation was because of the angle or the fact that he had such a lovely visual.

"Do you like this Sherlock?" She panted out, "Do you like me on top of you like this?"

"Fuck! Yes!" His hips were beginning to stutter, he was close, so close. He rarely ever came before she did, but it seemed that that was going to happen now.

She suddenly grabbed his hand, moving it forward until his fingertips met with wetness. She hadn't slowed in her movements.

"Touch me Sherlock, stroke my clit, make me come! I want to come with you! OH!"

Her last word came out with a loud gasp as he ran his fingers over her taut little nub. She jerked forward slightly, shocked by the intensity of the sensation but she quickly returned to the rhythm that she had set. Her hand had slipped down over his, reaching his bollocks. She cupped them and gave them a gentle squeeze. A loud groan erupted from his throat. He continued to drag his fingertip over her clit until suddenly they both cried out, their orgasms washing over them. Her bum cheeks dropped down, his hips bucking upwards slightly as he emptied himself into her. The noises the pair of them made were almost inhuman.

She held herself on top of him, appearing to be unable to move. Her climax had been so intense she nearly saw stars appearing before her eyes. With a little bit of effort, Sherlock pushed himself up into a seated position. He slipped his arm underneath her abdomen, pulling her up to him so that his chest was pressed into her back. She whimpered softly, he was still nestled inside of her, and the sensation of his now softened cock rubbing against her walls was almost too much. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he began to place open mouth kisses on her neck.

"God Molly, that was – thank you!" He breathed into her skin.

She tilted her head to the side, so that their lips could meet, he felt her smiling against his mouth; "You're welcome."

"What is – ahh – that position called?"

She let out a little giggle, bringing up her hand to run her fingers through the curls on the back of his head, "Reverse Cowgirl." She answered.

"Cowgirl?" He said slowly.

"Mmm yeah. It's a silly name. I know."

"Yes. I think it needs a new name." He returned his mouth to her neck.

"Oh? Do you have something in mind?"

"Mmm … My Lover Gives Me an Excellent View of Her Bum."

Molly couldn't help but laugh, "That's too many words Sherlock!"

"Hmmm? My Lover's Bum?"

She turned her head again, nipping at his bottom lip, "That's better."

They lay quietly for a time, basking in the afterglow. He was brushing his fingertips up and down her arms, sometimes drawing chemical equations on her skin.

"What are we going to do about my flat?" Molly suddenly asked.

Sherlock turned his head, brushing his nose against the back of her ear, "Mycroft will take care of it."

"And my furniture? I don't need to keep any of it. I bought it all second hand, none of it is important to me."

"Again, Mycroft." Sherlock nibbled on her earlobe.

Molly giggled, knowing how annoyed Mycroft was going to be, "I only want to keep my books and a few other things, and of course my clothes. Other than that, I don't need to keep anything else."

Sherlock hummed against her neck, having moved his mouth downwards.

"Sherlock?" She spoke his name hesitatingly.

He hummed again in response.

"What about Toby?"

Sherlock lifted up his head to look down at her, "What do you mean what about him? He'll be coming here with you, won't he? Unless I entirely misjudged your inane attachment to him, and you plan on getting rid of him."

She shook her head, "No. I could never get rid of him; I just wasn't sure how you felt about having him … here."

Sherlock sighed, "Molly, it's fine. He's a well-behaved specimen, except for when he sneaks into the bedroom during an intimate moment."

She giggled, remembering what had once happened. She lifted up her foot, giving his bollocks a light stroke with her toes.

"Molly!" Sherlock gasped out, his eyes widening in shock, causing her to let out another giggle. He growled capturing her mouth with his own to silence her laughter.

The next morning they were sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Molly was reading one of the celebrity magazines that Sherlock despised so much. He was tapping away at his laptop. They were both wearing a dressing gown with nothing on underneath. She had her foot absentmindedly moving up and down his calf muscle. She was just in the process of bringing her foot up higher when Sherlock suddenly exclaimed loudly:

"Oh bloody Hell!"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**What's got Sherlock's knickers in a twist?! Hehe! **

**Reviews are the best thing ever! :)**


	14. Oh Bloody Hell!

**What's got Sherlock's knickers in a twist?! **

** Is it something good, or bad?**

* * *

><p>Chapter Fourteen – Oh Bloody Hell!<p>

* * *

><p>"Oh bloody Hell!"<p>

Molly jumped at the sound of Sherlock's exclamation, her foot dropping to the floor.

"What is it?" She asked him.

He grumbled to himself for a few moments before answering her, "My mother." He sneered, "She has taken it upon herself to invite us to come for a visit. Either that or she threatens to come here."

Molly blinked at him, "Us? She's invited … _us_? She knows know about us?"

Sherlock's eyes met hers, "Yes, isn't that what I just said? I've not spoken a word to her about you; I hardly ever speak to her. No. It's those same newspaper moguls that claimed me to be a fraud; they somehow managed to get a photo of us in a rather compromising position. "

Molly let out a squeak as she set down her coffee cup, "What?! How?"

He spun his laptop about so that she could see it. There it was plain as day, although it was a rather grainy photo of the pair of them, but it was clear enough who it was of and what they were doing.

The photo had been taken a week or so ago, perhaps two weeks ago, before Sherrinford had arrived. Molly had been sitting outside getting some fresh air on her break and Sherlock had joined her. He had gotten a text from Lestrade about a case and before he had left he had taken Molly in his arms and kissed her deeply. This had rather surprised her; he was never one for public affection, and clearly this was proof as to why.

_HAS SEVEN TIMES IN BAKER STREET FOUND A NEW LOVE?_

The article practically screamed this from the page in big black bold letters. There was a caption below the photograph that Molly was certain gave her name; she didn't read it instead choosing to hide her face in her hands.

"Oh good God!" She groaned.

Sherlock only let out an indignant sniff.

She then dropped her hands away and looked at him, "Why didn't you just tell your mum? What an awful way to let them find out about us. Do you not want your parents to meet me?"

The hurt in her eyes was strong.

Sherlock quickly stood up and moved to kneel down in front of her, resting his hands on her arms, "No! That's not it at all."

"Don't want them to know that you're with a woman who works in a morgue?"

"Molly, stop it!" His grip on her arms tightened slightly, "That is not it at all and you know it! It's just that, well my parents they are so … boring. They're nothing like me or Mycroft. Sherrinford is really the only one that closely resembles them in personality –"

Molly cut in, "Get to the real reason Sherlock!"

He sighed, "I've never brought a woman, a woman that I love, to meet them before. I don't know how they will act, what they will say or do! It will probably be completely horrible!"

Molly let out a slow sigh of her own, "They can't be avoided for forever Sherlock, they are your mum and dad. I'm sure it would be lovely. I would really like to meet them. Do they still live in the house that you grew up in?"

He nodded, resigning himself to his fate, "Yes, they do."

Molly smiled, "Wonderful! I want to see where you became the man that you are today." She had brought her hands up to his curls, "Will you take me there?"

He grumbled again, muttering below his breath, "I suppose I must. Better that then them coming here! They'll just insist on us accompanying them to some appalling and sordid musical!" He shuddered and Molly pulled him to her.

"How long will we stay for?" She asked.

Sherlock groaned at the thought, "She'll want us to stay at least a week, I'm sure, but no! I will not endure that! Three days at the most, if even!" He buried his face further into Molly's chest, "I'd rather relive those two years away destroying Moriarty's web, then have to do this."

Molly dug her nails into his scalp, "Don't say that." The tone in her voice was fierce.

Sherlock tilted his head and peered up at her, "Sorry. Perhaps that was a Bit Not Good."

"Yes."

He tucked himself back into her, "So the article doesn't bother you?"

She carded her hands through his curls, "No, not really. I knew that there would bound to be some sort of publicity with attaching myself to you. I just didn't expect it to be quite like this."

"They clearly don't have anything better to do. How dull."

Molly chuckled then suddenly her hands stilled, "Why would a photographer be outside of the hospital? How would they have known that we would be there?"

She felt him go tense beneath her.

"Anderson." He spat.

"What? NO! He wouldn't do that!"

Sherlock lifted his head and looked at her, "He wouldn't? Molly, he assumed that you had a hand in the faking of my death! One of his ridiculous theories was that I went flying through a glass window and snogged the breath out of you. Damn him."

Molly bit back a laugh, never having heard Sherlock say 'snog' before, she then dropped her hands away from Sherlock, staring straight ahead, "You think he would honestly do that? Expose us to the media like that?"

Sherlock huffed loudly, "Yes. I do. I think I may need to pay him another visit."

She brought her hands back up to his hair and looked Sherlock in the eye, "No don't. Leave him alone. He probably did it to get back at you for all the times you told him that he lowered the IQ of the whole street."

All Sherlock did in reply was glower at her.

* * *

><p>Afterwards, for three days straight, there were newspaper reporters and hordes of photographers camped outside of Baker Street. Both Sherlock and Molly refused to give any comment to the press, and Mrs. Hudson was nearly in tears at times because of all the flashings going on outside of her flat. It also brought back terribly sad memories to her of prior to Sherlock's fall; she had to increase her intake of her herbal soothers.<p>

Sherlock did as Molly asked and left Anderson alone. Although he did have to withstand some rather scathing remarks from Sgt. Donavan; at first she didn't believe that the article was real, couldn't believe it. It wasn't until Lestrade told her to hush up about it that she realized she had no choice but to accept the fact that Morgue Mouse Molly was now with Freak Sherlock Holmes.

The media's interest in them did eventually die down, when a new celebrity made a faux pas and caught their attention. And exactly two days later, Mycroft sent a group of his men to pack and move Molly's things from her flat to Sherlock's.

The moving would have been done much sooner, if Sherlock had had his way, but Molly insisted on him giving her a little bit of time to sort through her things so that she could decide exactly what she wanted to keep.

Once everything had been brought to Sherlock's flat, and Toby had been released from his carrier (he instantly hid under the sofa), Molly put her foot down again. Telling Sherlock that she wanted to unpack the boxes herself and not have Mycroft's men do it. He had grumbled in annoyance but then dismissed them. As soon as she and Sherlock were alone she gave him a grateful kiss before going into the bedroom to unpack her clothes.

A few minutes later she heard several loud thumps. Hoping that it wasn't Toby causing problems she hurried from the bedroom only to find Sherlock removing books from one of his bookshelves and piling them on the floor.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"Making room for your books of course, I haven't touched any of these in ages. I'll just put them somewhere else." He answered her.

She walked up to him, wrapping her arms about his waist from behind and stood on her tip toes to place a kiss on the side of his neck, "Thank you."

He turned himself slightly, setting the book down that he had been holding, "I just thought that this would be the most convenient spot for them …"

Molly shook her head, "I don't just meant thank you for this," She gestured to the nearly empty shelf, "I mean for everything, all that you've done. You're really trying, and you're doing a fantastic job."

He turned himself fully so that he was now facing her, "I just want to make you happy."

She smiled at him, "And you are. I don't think I've ever been so happy."

He leaned forward and kissed her slowly, gently.

"Molly …" He started, once they had pulled away from each other.

"Yes?"

"Isn't there some sort of tradition when two people start living together?" He had moved his mouth along her jaw line and was now working his way down her throat.

"Tradition?" She gasped out, tilting her head back, "I thought you were above all that."

"Mmm … with most yes, but in this case … isn't there some sort of celebratory sex tradition … moving in sex?"

She burst into giggles, grabbing on to the sides of his face and pulling him up to her, "Yes … I think there actually is." She answered him.

"So … the rest of the unpacking can wait? Because I don't think I can." He pressed her to him, allowing her to feel how hard he was for her already.

She wordlessly nodded and he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom and making sure to shut the door behind them, causing Molly to burst into giggles again. He quickly silenced her laughter.

The following morning Sherlock woke first. For a few minutes he silently watched her sleep. Her hair was fanned out around her head on the pillow, a faint smile on her lips. He leaned forward and began to place feather-light kisses on her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, slipping his hand under the sheet to traipse his fingertips across her abdomen before coming to rest on her hip, at last bringing his mouth to hers (morning breath be damned!).

She sighed happily into the kiss, slipping her arms out to wrap them around his shoulders. She opened her eyes and blinked sleepily up at him. He smiled down at her. Neither one of them spoke a word, they didn't need to. He held himself over her before pressing his mouth to hers once more, after a few moments he deepened the kiss. Their hands met between their bodies, she gave his hardening cock a few strokes with her fingers, as he dragged the pad of his thumb across her clit. He then took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. Ever so slowly he slid inside of her, delving into her wet warmth.

He mouthed at her jaw line as he settled into a rhythm of lazy thrusts; there was no need for a quick release. Every time that he entered her, holding himself in her for a few moments, Molly let out a soft little, "Mmm …" It was such a gentle sound, but he felt it to his very core.

With their hands still connected, he brought his mouth to her breasts and gave each hardened nub a tender suckle as he continued to thrust into her slowly. He then kissed her again, her quiet moans entering into his mouth, as their tongues danced. He rocked his hips against hers, tilting his body in just the right way so that the tip of his cock rubbed directly up against that lovely little spot inside of her. When she let out a whimper he quickened his pace ever so slightly. They parted for breath as her moans grew a bit louder, and he began to pant into her skin.

"Sherlock!" She had her face pressed up against the side of his neck, he tilted his hips again, "Oh!" She came undone around him, bringing him with her.

"Molly!" He gasped out.

They lay together silently, curled around each other.

"Mmmmm … can you be my alarm clock from now on?" She asked him, once the beating of their hearts had settled down.

He let out a low laugh, placing a kiss on her forehead before saying, "You'll end up being late for work all the time."

"This may be the endorphins talking, but I don't care."

* * *

><p>Mary had settled herself down into the extremely uncomfortable chair in the canteen, her hands cupped around an atrocious cup of canteen coffee. Were the two trying to vie for the worst ever? If so, it was a close one!<p>

Molly was sat across from her, nibbling idly on a sandwich. She had specifically asked Mary to meet her there, but now that they were face to face she was having a hard time coming up with the words she wanted to say. It turned out that Molly didn't need to know what to say because Mary said it for her.

"I suppose you wanted to meet up because Sherlock is bringing you to meet his parents?"

Molly nodded quickly, swallowing the bite of sandwich she had been chewing.

"Don't fret about it! His mum and dad are lovely people! His mother is a bit of a force to be reckoned with, but his dad is positively adorable. He's a very sweet man. You really have nothing to worry about Molly. They're going to love you!" Mary took a sip of the coffee and very nearly spit it out, "Christ! How do you drink this shite?"

Molly gave a shrug, "I'm only worried about if they are going to 'love' me for me, or if it's going to be because of the fact that Sherlock is finally with someone. As far as I am aware none of the Holmes boys have ever brought home a female. Sherlock finally has something he can truly one-up Mycroft with." She gave a soft snort and proceeded to eat the rest of her sandwich.

Mary leaned forward, "What is it that you're really afraid of?"

Molly swallowed the last bit of her sandwich before answering, "Sherlock told me that his parents are completely boring. And John said that they are surprisingly ordinary. I don't believe what either one of them says for a second. There is no way that they can be the parents of Mycroft and Sherlock and be ordinary and boring, that's just not possible! I haven't even met them and I already feel intimidated by them!"

Mary shook her head, "They're not intimidating whatsoever! You're getting yourself worked up over nothing! They are not what Sherlock considers them to be, they are incredibly kind and caring people. What about Sherrinford? You didn't mention him; he's their son as well. Isn't he a bit different from his brothers?"

Molly nodded, "Yeah, almost in entirety. Sherlock told me that Sherrinford is the only one that closely resembles their parents in personality."

"Is that a good thing? I never got the chance to meet him, but you did, do you like him?"

"Yes, he was really nice. He has an entirely different persona from Sherlock. He isn't intimidating at all."

Mary threw her hands up, "See? There you go! Nothing to worry about. Go, meet them, have fun, be yourself! I'm sure Sherlock will be himself. I hope so; it's quite a lot of fun watching his mother rein him in. Too bad Mycroft won't be there, she calls him Mike, it's hilarious!"

A silence fell; Mary attempted another sip of her coffee but quickly gave up on it. She studied Molly for a few moments, sensing that there was something else that she wasn't telling her.

"There's something else you're afraid of, isn't there?"

Molly nodded again, "Yes. I'm afraid, terrified actually, that they won't approve of me. That they'll think I'm not good enough for their son."

Mary let out an exasperated sigh, "You are being ridiculous! Why would they not like you? What is there about you not to like? And what difference does it make anyway? Sherlock likes you, quite obviously. All that should really matter to you is what he thinks of you, not what anyone else thinks."

A few more beats of silence passed.

"It matters to me because … if Sherlock and I stay together (and I hope that we will!), his parents will be the closest thing to a mum and dad for me … since both my parents are gone."

Mary placed a hand on top of Molly's, "Now I understand." She gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "Have you told Sherlock? Have you talked with him about any of this?"

Molly shook her head, "No. He's rather upset about the fact that we are going. And he'll probably just tell me I'm being foolish."

Mary nodded her head from side to side, taking her hand off of Molly's, "Yes, he might say that, and he might not. He's changed a lot since you two have been together. I think you should talk to him, so that he at least knows how you feel."

"He'll probably already deduce it before I even get the words out! But I'll – I'll do it, I'll talk with him."

Three hours later Molly's shift ended and she made her way home to 221B. She stopped to do a bit of shopping along the way, deciding that she wanted to make dinner instead of choosing the easy way and getting Chinese. One could only consume so much of that, although John had told her that he swore that was all Sherlock survived on: take away and chips.

Loaded with her purchases she made her way up the stairs to the flat. Placing the bags on the floor she closed the door behind her and took off her coat and scarf, noting that Sherlock's Belstaff was hanging nearby.

"Sherlock?" She called out.

"Kitchen." He replied.

She took up the bags and walked into the kitchen, finding him sitting at his microscope. She put the bags down onto the table before moving over to him and placing a kiss upon his cheek. He turned his head so that their lips could meet.

"Hello."

He gave her another kiss then noticed the bags.

"Cooking tonight?" He asked her.

"Mmhmm." She began to take the things out of the bags as Sherlock watched her.

"Molly, you're upset about something. You only cook when you're upset. You bake when you're happy. What's wrong?"

She stopped what she was doing, but didn't look up at him.

"Molly?"

She moved to grab the jar of sauce but he stopped her when he placed his hand over hers.

"Can't you just deduce it?" She asked him, still not looking up.

"Yes. But I'd prefer not to. I'd like you to tell me."

He slipped his hand underneath hers so that he was holding it. At last she looked up at him.

"I'm not exactly upset, more so … worried."

His brow crinkled, "About what?"

"Meeting your mum and dad."

He rolled his yes, "Why are you worried about meeting them? The only thing you should be worried about is how bored you're going to be!"

She blinked at him, "You're not concerned that they won't like me?"

"No!" He scoffed, "Why would you even think that?"

She gave an unconvincing shrug and he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Molly, I don't need their approval of you. And you shouldn't either. Isn't my approval enough?"

He had stepped closer to her, placing his hands around her waist.

"It's just … it would be nice if they did like me. I hardly ever knew my mum, and it's been years since my dad …" Her voice faded off.

"Ahhh … I see." He held her to him, her cheek coming to rest upon his shirt, "This is one of those sentimental things that I'll never fully understand, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He huffed softly, "What did Mary tell you?"

Molly sniffed; of course he knew that she had talked to her, "She told me I was being ridiculous."

"Mmm … I'll have to agree with her." He kissed the top of Molly's head, "It's just a weekend, if you hate them or they hate you, it will just give me the chance to see them even less!"

Molly gave the back of his head a good swat, "For that you're on dish cleaning duty!"

She stepped out of his embrace as he let out a noise of aggravation.

* * *

><p>Two days later Molly placed the last few items in her suitcase and zipped it closed. Once she brought it to stand she rolled it out of their bedroom and towards the door.<p>

"Molly?" Sherlock called out as he came up the stairs, "Are you ready? The car is here to take us to the train station." He opened the door and entered the flat, spotting her pulling on her coat.

"Yes. I'm ready." She replied as she wound her bright, multi-coloured scarf around her neck.

He approached her, and shifted her scarf slightly so that it covered her neck more fully. She smiled up at him.

"Thank you Sherlock, for doing this. For being willing to do this."

He tilted his head to the side, "Wellll … I wouldn't exactly say that I'm willing!"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes. I tried to force Lestrade to give me a case but apparently Mycroft got to him before I could."

Molly held back a smile, the expression on Sherlock's face was nothing but purely miffed. She placed her hands on his arms.

"You're going to survive this."

He let out a loud exhalation, "I certainly hope so."

She took his hand in hers, "You won't have to face any of it alone, I will be right there with you … every step of the way!"

He peered down at her before smiling widely, "Yes, you will be. I am grateful for that!"

She gave his hand a tug, "Come on, it's time for me to meet Mummy and Daddy Holmes!"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**Did I handle the whole media thing all right? I struggled with it for a bit … didn't really know how to do it, and I didn't want the whole chapter focused on it! Was it convincing enough? **

**Be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think! :D**


	15. Mummy and Daddy Holmes!

**Will Mr. and Mrs. Holmes like Molly?**

**TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of rape, sorry!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Fifteen – Mummy and Daddy Holmes!<p>

* * *

><p>"… it's time for me to meet Mummy and Daddy Holmes!" Molly stated as she led Sherlock down the stairs.<p>

He carried her suitcase and once they got outside he gave it to the waiting driver. She slid into the backseat and he followed her in. They had a nearly two hour train ride to the Cotswold's before them.

"I put four new science papers on my tablet for you." Molly told him, "One is about—"

Before she could finish what she was saying Sherlock had covered her mouth with his, silencing her with a kiss. He could feel her smiling against his lips.

"Didn't want you to be bored on the train." She stated, peering up at him.

He smiled down at her and gave her another kiss.

Within the half hour they had arrived at the station, and were now settled in. Molly had given Sherlock her tablet and she had already made herself cozy with a book of her own. Just as the train started to move forward she chuckled, a thought suddenly coming to her.

"Remember Sherlock, they're cars, not carriages." She looked at him from the corner of her eye.

He sighed, "Ahh yes, Shilcott."

She let out another giggle, "That was a fun day."

He looked up from the tablet and stared straight ahead, "Yes, it was. I rather enjoyed it."

After resituating herself slightly she leaned her head against his shoulder and opened her book.

"Reading _Jane Eyre_ again?" He questioned.

"Mmm … I don't know why exactly, but I always feel compelled to read it around this time of year; must be something about the weather being rather gloomy."

A few beats of silence passed. Molly had become so engrossed in her book that she hadn't taken notice of Sherlock's hand coming to rest upon her knee. Nor did she notice that he had slowly begun to move it upwards toward the hem of her skirt. It wasn't until he stroked her inner thigh with his finger that she realized what he was doing.

"Sherlock!" She hissed.

He hadn't looked up from the tablet, nor had he removed his hand. She glanced around, grateful that the car they were in was nearly empty. From where the others were sitting no one would notice what was going on. He slipped his hand further underneath her skirt, pushing her knickers to the side before dragging the pad of his index finger along her slit.

Molly hissed again, but this time in reaction to his ministrations. The words on the page before her became blurred. She couldn't focus on what she was reading, only on what Sherlock's fingers were doing.

He had spread her folds apart and slid one long digit into her wet core. He curled his finger ever so slightly before pulling it out, only to add another. She was breathing heavily now, fighting to keep down the moans that were struggling to escape from her throat.

"Sherlock!" She whimpered as he continued to slide his fingers slowly in and out of her, "OH!" He had brushed his thumb across her clit.

He did it again, and again, three times more, until a great shudder went through her body. She leaned her head back, panting slightly as he pulled his hand away from her and brought his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean.

"You …" She gasped out, "are, an utter, arse!"

He still hadn't looked up from the tablet. She gave his arm a punch and he finally looked up.

"Hmmm? What?"

She glared at him, "Don't go all innocent on me Sherlock Holmes! What was that?"

He shrugged, "Didn't you enjoy it?"

The look she gave him was answer enough. He smiled cheekily at her.

"You are such a dirty man. I had no idea!"

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw, "You're no better."

She shivered slightly before sitting up straighter, "You better behave for the rest of this trip! And don't expect us to be shagging while we're at your parents."

He stared at her dumbfounded, "What?"

"Sherlock, I'm not having sex in your parents home and risking them hearing us. No, no and no. It's only for a few days. You and your libido will survive."

With a great huff he leaned back into the cushion, a very large pout upon his face. She rolled her eyes and returned to reading her book.

By the time they arrived in the Cotswold's, it was nearing late afternoon. Molly was glad to be off the train, and was almost willing to walk the rest of the way, until Sherlock told her that his parent's home was a thirty minute drive.

Upon getting a cab they settled in and as they made their way towards his childhood home Sherlock pointed out different landmarks to her, telling her the many things he had done when he was younger.

Molly watched him, noticing how different he looked to her; he almost appeared younger, a bit more at ease. In spite of the many times that he would go on about his great dislike for sentiment and caring, she knew that deep down he didn't believe a word. Sherlock Holmes was in fact one of the most sentimental, caring and loving people she had ever known. Yes, he could be an absolute dick at the best of times, but over the course of their being together she had discovered so much more about him. She hooked her arm through his and gave him a tender squeeze. He looked down at her and she smiled up at him.

"I think you're rather happy to be here." She noted.

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

"Don't deny it. I know you are."

He humphed, only causing her to laugh.

When the car pulled up in front of the Holmes's residence, Molly felt her mouth drop open. It was a beautiful and adorable house. Painted a rather shocking shade of red, and yet it suited it. The house was settled in a slightly remote area, surrounded by several large fields.

Just as Sherlock stepped out of the cab the front door opened. Molly couldn't stop herself from smiling. John had been right Sherlock's parents looked positively ordinary; they were nothing whatsoever like what she had imagined. She still didn't believe for a second that what Sherlock had told her about them was true though, they did _not _look boring.

"William!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed as she walked towards them.

Molly casted a sly glance towards him, knowing how much he despised being called by his first name. He was keeping his emotions in check though, only smiling pleasantly at his mother.

"Hello Mummy." He gave her a kiss upon the cheek and she did the same to him before wrapping her arms about him and giving him a hug.

Mr. Holmes was standing directly behind them, watching the pair, once she stepped away he moved forward, "Sherlock." He gave him a hug as well, a little bit less exuberant than his wife's.

"Mummy, Dad … this is Molly. Doctor Molly Hooper." Sherlock had placed his hand upon the small of her back as he introduced her.

"Hello my dear! I am so pleased to finally meet you! Please call me Marian." She gave Molly a tender hug, "This really should have taken place much sooner! If my son wasn't such an arse! Leaving me to find out about you two through a newspaper article!" She ended her sentence with a well aimed glare towards Sherlock, and Molly had to fight back a smile.

His father stepped forward, giving her a welcoming hug, "I am happy to meet you as well, please call me Siger, everyone else does!"

With the introductions now complete they made their way into the house.

"You have a lovely home." Molly said to them as she looked about her.

"Oh thank you, it has become rather large with our boys now all grown up and hardly ever here, but my husband and I can't bear to part with it." Marian answered as she led them into the front room where a fire was going, "The tea should be ready in a moment. Why don't you show her your room William?"

"Yes Mummy." Sherlock took Molly's hand and led her up the stairs that they had passed on their way in. Siger had already brought up their suitcases. They walked down a long hall, stopping when they came to the last door. Sherlock pushed it open and they stepped inside.

"Oh wow."

"Hmm?" Sherlock turned around and looked at her.

"Nothing … I just … I hadn't expected your room to look like this, that's all."

His nose scrunched, "Yes, well … I've wanted to change it, but Mummy won't allow me to. Bit ridiculous really. She keeps it as if it's a museum display."

Molly laughed, walking over to a small bookshelf, "How come you don't bring these to Baker Street?" She ran her finger over the spine of Howard Pyle's, _Book of Pirates_.

Sherlock shrugged, "I read them countless times as a child, I don't have a need for them now."

She turned back around and faced him, noting that both of their suitcases were in there, "Your mum is all right with us staying in the same room?"

He rolled his eyes, "My mother is not old-fashioned Molly."

She smiled as he stepped closer to her, "You're parents are very nice Sherlock."

"Mmm, did I ever say that they weren't?"

"No."

Just as he was leaning down to kiss her his mother's voice drifted up the stairs, "William! Molly! The tea is ready!"

Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh. Molly stood on her tip toes and gave him a chaste kiss before walking out of the bedroom, with him following. Once they had all settled in upon the sofa or in a chair, with a cup of tea in hand, the true conversation began.

"So, tell me Molly, what is your profession?" Marian asked her.

Molly took a sip of tea before answering, "I am a Specialist Registrar, a pathologist at St. Bart's Hospital in London."

"Ahhh, you work in the morgue. That must be rather dismal at times."

Molly was surprised by Marian's comment; rarely anyone ever knew what she was talking about when she mentioned the title of her profession.

"Yes, well ... sometimes it is rather upsetting. The worst is when I have to perform an autopsy on a child; usually the result of a car accident. I never enjoy those. But for the most part I find my job to be rather satisfying because I am able to help to give families closure about their loved ones."

Marian nodded in understanding, "Mikey tells me that you often aid William with his cases."

Molly was momentarily confused for a moment until she heard Sherlock mutter his brother's name under his breath.

"Oh Mycroft! Uhmmm ... well yes, if Sherlock needs access to a body in the morgue, or he needs time in the lab I've always been willing to help him."

"You're the only pathologist that's competent in the whole of St. Bart's." Sherlock chimed in.

Molly took a sip of tea before declaring, "I'm the only pathologist who is willing to put up with you!"

Siger chuckled, pleased to discover that his son had found a woman who knew how to keep Sherlock in his place.

"Did you grow up in London?"

Molly returned her attention to Marian, "No, I actually grew up in Reading. I didn't move to London until I started university."

"Do your parents still live in Reading?"

Molly bit down on her lip, worrying it between her teeth. She honestly didn't mind all of the questions Marian was throwing at her, it was just the fact that she hardly ever spoke about these things with anyone and that when she did it never got any easier, "Both my parents have passed on."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Molly held up her hand, "No it's all right, you weren't to know. My mother died when I was very young, a car crash. And my father got cancer a year before I started uni; he passed a month into my first term."

"Oh, how very sad."

Sherlock was watching Molly very closely, taking note of how upset she was, but also pleased by the fact that she was able to hold herself together.

"It was difficult. I ended up dropping out of university, and spent the rest of the year backpacking through Europe."

Sherlock leaned back in shock, "I never knew that."

She turned a small smile upon him, "You can't deduce everything about me …"

Several beats of silence passed as they continued to look at each other. Marian cleared her throat, breaking apart their strong gaze.

"You did eventually go back to university though?"

Molly finished her tea before answering, "Oh yes, my dad had left me a bit of money and I was able to use that to let a flat in London. I started back up in university shortly after I returned. I suppose it really does help having friends in high places; the head of the medical department was a former classmate of my father's. He was able to get me back in without too much trouble. And in spite of my late start, I was able to graduate a whole year earlier than most."

Marian smiled, "You're a determined young woman, I like that."

Sherlock was staring at Molly as if he had never seen her before.

A little while later, after the conversation took a rather nasty turn; at least in Sherlock's eyes (his mother had the audacity to ask how the two of them got together!), she had left them to start making dinner. Molly had offered her help, but Marian had insisted that she was a guest and that she should just relax. Siger had settled down into a chair by the fire and was reading a book.

"How about a walk?" Sherlock had asked her.

"Fresh air sounds perfect."

After donning their coats he led her out the back door, both of them desperately trying to ignore the fact that his mother was visibly watching them through the window. The sun had long ago set, but the moon was rising, giving them enough light to see by. Molly hooked her arm through Sherlock's as they walked out towards the field.

"How come you never told me about your backpacking trip?" His voice broke through the silence. It was incredibly quiet out there.

Molly gave a slight shrug, "I don't know. Perhaps because I don't think about it often … I try not to."

Sherlock stopped walking and faced her, "Something happened, during your time away."

She dropped her gaze to the ground, removing her arm from his and tucking both of her hands into her coat pockets.

"Molly …?"

He stepped closer when she didn't answer. He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head so that she had no choice but to look at him. Tears were pooling at the corners of her eyes.

"Molly, what happened?"

She blinked a few times, the tears now falling down her cheeks, "It was while I was in Spain, staying at a hostel. I was attacked by another traveler. He tried to rape me … but he didn't succeed. I fought him off."

Sherlock's hand on her chin tightened slightly, "Did you go to the police?"

She shook her head, "No. I was too scared. I know I should have, but I didn't."

Suddenly Sherlock's arms were around her and he was holding her close. She buried her face into the lapels of his coat. He held her quietly for a few minutes.

"Do you think you would be able to describe him?"

Molly shook her head, "Sherlock, it was years ago … I've practically _deleted_ the memory … I have no idea what he looked like. I'm sorry."

He pulled her back slightly so that he could look down at her, "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that that had to happen to you." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

They continued on their walk, deciding not to go too much farther. When they returned to the house dinner was ready. Conversation flowed comfortably during the meal. Marian and Siger shared several stories of Sherlock growing up, much to his chagrin. They also told a few about Mycroft (Sherlock rather enjoyed that), and some about Sherrinford as well. Molly told them that she had met him during his recent visit, and they began to discuss his mathematic accomplishments as well as Marian's.

She had just gotten up from the table to retrieve the book she had written, "It's been ages since I've had a good look at this, but perhaps you'd like to see it." She handed Molly a book titled, _The Dynamics of Combustion._

Molly couldn't help but smile as she looked it over, "This is amazing!"

Later that evening Molly and Sherlock were sitting on the sofa in front of the fire; she had her head leaning on his shoulder. His parent's had gone to bed a little while ago, all was quiet around them. Molly was still finishing off her wine from dinner.

"You're parent's home is beautiful Sherlock. I can see why they wouldn't want to ever sell it."

"Mmm..."

Molly leaned forward and placed her now empty wine glass on the coffee table. The dying fire was casting strange shadows on the walls. She settled back into the cushions, Sherlock's arm curling around her shoulders once more.

"Are you falling asleep?" She asked him in a teasing tone.

"Nooooo!" His answer would have been more convincing if it hadn't ended in a yawn.

She giggled then gave his shirt a tug, "Let's go to bed." She stood up.

His eyes perked up at the mention of bed. Molly caught on to his thought process straight away.

"To sleep Sherlock, not to shag."

He pouted.

"Not in your parents home!" She hissed.

His pout increased.

"You're ridiculous." She would have swatted at his head with a pillow if there had been one handy.

"If you weren't so loud, we could easily get away with it." He stated as if it was the most matter of fact thing in the world.

She placed her hands on her hips, giving him the _that was definitely Not Good look_, "You make just as much noise as I do! You're the most vocal man I've ever been with." She held up her hand just as he opened his mouth, "Keep that comment to yourself, or you will be sleeping on the sofa."

Molly hadn't thought it was possible but his pout intensified. Rolling her eyes she turned away from him, grabbed up her wine glass and carried it into the she returned he was still on the sofa with his arms crossed, and still pouting.

"Are you coming to bed or not?"

He shrugged, "What's the point? You obviously don't want me anymore."

"Sherlock! Stop that right now! You know that isn't true!"

His mouth twitched slightly.

"Please come to bed. I'd rather not sleep alone."

With a great dramatic huff he pushed himself up from the sofa and followed her out of the room and up the stairs. Once they were in his bedroom, with the door closed behind them, she gave him a nudge towards the bed.

"I'd suck you off, but since you're being such a tit, I don't think I will. Plus the fact that you're just as loud when I do that as you are during sex."

He grumbled this time instead of pouting. She stepped away from him and proceeded to put on her pyjamas. Once she was done she turned back around only to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, having not gotten changed. She walked over to him, placing her body in-between his legs. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

"How about a snog?" She asked him.

He moved his arms until they were about her waist and pulled her closer to him, "Molly, every time we kiss it leads to sex."

"Mmmm ... that is true." She placed a chaste peck upon his mouth then suddenly smiled widely, "I think I have an idea."

He raised an eyebrow, "And what is this idea?"

Leaning further forward she whispered into his ear.

"Ahhh..."

She nipped at his earlobe, giggling softly, "Is that a yes? Do you agree?"

His reply was to grab a hold of her tightly and push her down upon the bed. Her laughter grew louder before he silenced her with a kiss.

"You need to get out of your clothes in order for this to work." She whispered breathlessly to him.

He pushed himself up and off the bed, pulling his clothes off with rapid speed, before returning to her, now entirely naked. She smiled up at him, her hand slipping down his bare chest, over his stomach, and just stopping when it reached his patch of wiry hair.

"Shouldn't you take yours off as well?" He questioned.

She lifted up her hips and slipped off her pyjama bottoms, "I'm not taking my top off."

Before he could pout she stopped it with a glare.

"You're lucky we're doing even this." She told him firmly.

They stared at each other for a few beats, neither one of them saying anything.

"Try not to uhh ... get anything on the sheets?" Molly blushed as she said this to him.

He rolled his eyes, "My mother wasn't born yesterday Molly ... I am certain she knows we are in a sexual relationship. There's nothing to be so embarrassed about."  
>"Maybe for you there isn't, but for me there is."<p>

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, "This is another one of those things I won't ever understand ... isn't it?"

"Yes."

He sighed, placing his hand on her abdomen, "There is so much about Human Nature that will always be a mystery to me." His hand slowly moved downwards, stopping when his fingertips brushed against her curls, "However ... the results of my touching you HERE," his middle finger slid in between her folds and pressed directly against her clit, "will never cease to fascinate me."

Molly's eyes had dropped closed, her lips were parted, she was panting slightly, and had gripped onto the bed sheet with her hand. She moaned softly and Sherlock leaned forward and kissed her. He slipped his hand a bit further down in order to slide two of his fingers inside of her; she was already so very wet for him. He brushed his thumb over her clit. She moaned again into his mouth as he deepened their kiss.

Releasing the bed sheet from her grip she brought her hand to his fully hard cock and began to stroke him with her fingers. He bucked his hips forward, the head of his cock pressing up against her hip. She wrapped her hand around him, pumping in rhythm to the movements of his fingers inside of her. They silenced each other with kisses, barely allowing themselves to part for breath in fear that one or the other would moan too loudly.

"Oh God!" She panted against his lips, as he curved his fingers inside of her and pressed his thumb down hard against her clit.

Her orgasm hit her full force; he kissed her, silencing what would have been a rather loud moan, with his mouth. With a few more final pumps of her hand he came as well, emptying himself out on her abdomen, groaning as quietly as he could against her lips.

The pair of them lay back against the pillows, panting. After a few minutes Molly sat up and grabbed the box of nearby tissues. She wiped herself clean before handing him the box. He did so as well, then deposited the box and dirty tissues on the floor before grabbing up the blanket and pulling it over them.

"Better?" She asked him as she placed a kiss on his shoulder.

"Mmm ... somewhat."

She snuggled into his chest, "I'll make it up to you when we get home."

He put his arm around her, "I'll hold you to that."

She laughed quietly before nipping at his skin with her teeth.

* * *

><p>Sherlock woke the next morning with Molly curled up with her back against him. He knew she was awake by the pattern of her breathing. He kissed her bare shoulder, noting that she had put on her pyjama bottoms. He was a bit annoyed when his own naked skin met fabric. These were going to be three very long days.<p>

"I rather like your room. It's very you." Her voice was husky with sleep.

He let out a sniff, "Not entirely. This is a room of a young boy, not a man."

She laughed softly, "The pirate theme is quite adorable."

He growled into her neck, only making her laugh again.

"Is Mycroft's filled with pictures of the Queen? And does Sherrinford have mathematical equations on the wall?"

Sherlock let out a snort, "I wouldn't know, I was never allowed in either of their rooms."

Molly turned over so that she could face him, "Was it difficult, growing up with them? I have no idea what's it really like to have siblings, let alone a twin."

He shrugged, "We all teased each other incessantly. But for many years we were the only companions that we had. My mother kept us separated from other children until we were a bit older. Ghastly idea that was."

Molly laughed again.

After taking showers, separately (much to Sherlock's disappointment), they made their way downstairs to find Marian having cooked breakfast for them.

"You really don't need to go through so much trouble Mummy." Sherlock stated firmly as he settled himself down at the table.

Marian spun about and placed on the table a plate of freshly baked scones, "You hardly ever visit, I like to spoil you while I can William!" She gave the top of his head a peck, "Did you two sleep well?"

A faint blush came to Molly's cheeks, "Yes. Slept perfectly."

"Any plans for today? You should take Molly into the village, William, show her around! I'm sure she'd enjoy that."

Sherlock looked less than pleased by this suggestion but when he saw Molly's hopeful look he gave in. A little while later the pair of them were in his parent's car driving towards the village.

"There's really not much to see here. I could show you where I found Billy the skull though." Sherlock told her as they got out of the car.

Molly eyed him for a moment, "Found or stole?"

He had the decency to look affronted, "I am not a grave robber, the tomb was already damaged, I merely was curious."

"Alas, poor Yorick!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands, Sherlock just shook his head before leading her towards the church cemetery.

They returned later that afternoon to the house, after having perused the cemetery for some time and then walked about the village. Much to Molly's surprise none of the villagers recognized Sherlock. He explained to her that it had been years since he had visited (minus that one Christmas when the whole Magnussen event took place), and that he looked rather different when he was a child.

Marian had tea ready for them upon their return and Molly was glad for this, it had been rather chilly outside. Sherlock had left the pair of them to go and speak with his father.

Marian took a sip of her tea before saying, "I didn't want to mention this in front of him … but ahh … Mike told us that you played a part in the faking of William's death."

Molly felt herself blush, "I – yeah I did."

Marian placed her hand on top of Molly's, "That must have been very difficult for you dear."

"It wasn't easy, but I did it willingly, I wanted to help him. I never believed for a second that he was a fraud. I always believed in him."

Marian gave her hand a gentle pat then leaned back into her chair, "If we had known about you, we would have had you come and stay here with us. I'm sure that would have been a great comfort."

Molly smiled, "Thank you. At first it was very hard, being the only one amongst Sherlock's acquaintances to know the truth, but Mycroft took good care of me. He kept me updated on Sherlock's whereabouts, how he was doing. He was incredibly kind to me during that time; he took me to tea every Saturday."

"I raised my boys to be proper gentlemen! Don't entirely know what went wrong though … I know they are a bit _odd_."

"I wouldn't want them any other way."

Marian smiled, "Ahhh yes, I can see why William loves you."

Molly blushed again.

"Would you like to see pictures of him as a child?"

"Oh yes please!"

Marian got up from her chair and retrieved a large photo album from the bookshelf, "It will probably be easiest if we both sit on the sofa, this album opens quite wide!"  
>Molly moved to sit beside her, excited to see pictures of little Sherlock.<p>

"He'll probably never forgive me for showing you these. But I don't entirely care."

Molly let out a giggle. As they made their way through the album Molly's amusement grew, Marian often joining in with her. It was quite possible that Sherlock had been the most adorably lanky and awkward child that Molly had ever seen. There were multitudes of photos of him dressed as a pirate, and when Marian revealed that for an entire year he refused to wear normal clothes, Molly roared with laughter.

"Are you two torturing owls?" Sherlock queried as he walked into the room.

Molly clamped her hand over her mouth in endeavor to stifle her giggles, but failed miserably. He narrowed his eyes at her then walked over to them.

"MUMMY!" He exclaimed, looking positively mortified as he stared down at the album spread across their laps.

"Oh don't Sherlock, I wanted to see them." Molly explained.

Sherlock blushing was not a common sight, but he was doing so now. With a sharp turn he stormed from the room.

"Oh dear." Molly murmured.

Marian closed the album.

"I best go and speak with him, or he'll be in a strop for the rest of the evening." Molly stood up and hurried upstairs.

Sherlock was curled up on his bed, her back to her, when she entered his room. She closed the door behind her and climbed onto the bed.

"Sherlock stop sulking." She gave his shoulder a tug and he rolled onto his back.

"I am not sulking." He stated firmly.

She straddled his stomach and his hands automatically came to rest upon her hips. She planted her palms on either side of his head so that she could lean down directly over him.

"You're embarrassed though."

He let out an indignant sniff, "I am not."

"Fibbing." She sang out to him.

He glowered at her and she smiled.

"You were rather cute when you were little."

He rolled his eyes.

"Love the pirate costume … would you object to my getting one of my own? I think I might make a decent pirate wench."

Sherlock's eyes widened at the thought.

"Is that an 'aye aye matey!'?" She asked in a teasing tone.

He couldn't help but smile. She dipped her head down and gave the side of his neck a gentle suckle, her nose brushing against his ear.

"Just keep that in mind … for when we get home." She murmured against his skin.

His hands on her hips tightened slightly and she snickered.

"I may have to clap you in irons for that one!" He growled.

She let out a shriek as he quickly shifted their bodies so that she was now lying beneath him, "Will you make me swab your deck?" She inquired, giving a sly glance downwards at the prominent bulge in his trousers.

"Sexual innuendo's and pirate dialogue? Interesting combination."

She hooked a leg up over the back of his, "Don't deny that you're not enjoying this."

A low snarl erupted from his throat, "I would be enjoying it more if it would actually lead to us shagging!"

Molly let out a slow sigh, "It's just one more day Sherlock … I think you'll survive."

He leaned down closer to her, "Will you? I know what you did in the shower this morning."

She gave the back of his head a good swat. Suddenly the look on his face became contemplative.

"I never knew about you and Mycroft."

Molly's brows furrowed, "Mycroft and I? What do you mean?"

"That he … took care of you, while I was gone. I never knew."

"Oh, that, the tea. Yeah. It was nice."

Sherlock looked slightly hurt.

Molly moved her hands up to his neck, tugging him slightly so that he looked down at her, "Don't you know that when you listen in on a conversation, you usually learn things that you wish you hadn't?"

"It just surprised me, that's all. Didn't think Mycroft had it in him."

She let out a snort, "You don't know your brother, as well as you think you do."

Sherlock let out a snort of his own.

"He made it easier for me; those two years that you were away."

Sherlock kissed her, "I suppose I have to be grateful to him for that."

* * *

><p>Molly's visit with the Holmes' proved to be a very relaxing and quiet time. It was nice to get away for a bit from the noise and constant bustle of London.<p>

Shockingly enough Sherlock had managed to be fairly well-behaved during their stay. She had expected him to be itching for a case, positively bored by the thought of doing nothing, but instead she had never seen him so relaxed. Minus the bit about the lack of shagging. He wouldn't let up on that.

On their final night there (they would be leaving early the next morning), Molly had insisted on helping Marian cook dinner. She had made them home-cooked meals three times a day. If this was at all a hint of what it was like to have a mother, Molly had to confess that the thought saddened her. It would have been nice to have grown up in such a loving environment like this. Her father had been wonderful, but it was not the same as having a motherly influence around.

Throughout the meal Siger had amused them with tales about his own childhood. As Molly watched them she took note of how Sherlock resembled both his parents quite a lot. He seemed to be under the impression that he didn't at all, but she wasn't so easily fooled.

After dinner, both Marian and Siger declared that Molly could not help whatsoever in the cleaning up process. They had shooed both her and Sherlock into the front room. He grabbed the game _Operation _off of the shelf and Molly settled herself down into one of the chairs as Sherlock sat down across from her. "Looking forward to being back in London?" She asked him as he set up the game.

"Yes. I'm sure the Yard has made an appalling mess of things while I have been gone. I wouldn't be surprised if Lestrade has a multitude of cases for me!"

She couldn't help but chuckle.

"Are you?" He asked looking at her.

"Yes. I miss Baker Street. And Toby."

"Mmm … Baker Street. Don't expect to return to work on Tuesday, I intend on keeping you in our bed until at least Wednesday."

"Sherlock!" She hissed, kicking at his shin with her foot.

The doorbell rang but both of them ignored it, knowing that Marian would answer it. Molly shook her head at him, and was about to say something when she heard Marian open the front door and then heard a woman ask:

"Terribly sorry to disturb you at such an hour, but I was wondering, is Sherlock Holmes here? The Consulting Detective?"

Marian opened the door wider, "Yes. He is my son, and he is here for a visit. Do you need his help?"

The young woman was suddenly on the verge of tears, "Yes. I do, I terribly do!"

Marian beckoned her inside and led her into the front room; they both looked up at the sound of the crying woman.

"William dear, this young lady is in need of your detective abilities." Marian explained to him.

The young woman sat down upon the sofa as Sherlock straightened his posture and steepled his fingers, waiting for her to speak. She took the offered box of tissues from Molly and blew her nose.

"I would have come earlier today if I had the chance, but my employer needed me longer tonight." She hiccupped slightly as she spoke.

"And it is about your employer that you came to me?" Sherlock asked.

She nodded, looking up at him, "Yes. My employer is Mr. Rucastle. I am the nanny to his son; the boy's mother died giving birth to him. I've been the nanny for nearly a year now. I only just recently moved into the house, I used to live in the village. Something is not right about that place; something is terribly, terribly wrong. The son, Jeremy, used to be an absolute angel for me; I never had any real difficulty with him. But ever since I started living there his entire personality has changed."

"And you don't think it is simply because you are there, at his beck and call twenty-four-seven?" Sherlock queried.

She shook her head, "No. He's told me things, awful things. He said that he sees a woman at night that walks the halls, dressed all in white. That she whispers to him, tells him to do things, horrid things. I once found him with a little bird and he had broken its neck. When I asked him why he did it, he told me that _she_ had asked him to do it."

"How old is Jeremy?" Sherlock enquired.

"Six."

Sherlock pressed the tips of his steepled fingers to his mouth, "Hmm... have you ever told him ghost stories? Allowed him to watch scary films?"

"NO! Not at all! He's far too young for any of that."

"Why do you think that there is something wrong about the house?"

She sniffled again and wiped at her nose, "It's a very old house, at least a hundred if not two hundred years old. Been in my employer's family for ages apparently. There are sections of it that have been closed off to help bring down the expense of heating. Jeremy told me that one of the sections of the house that is closed off is where the woman comes from. I tried to investigate, but before I could even get near the area Mr. Rucastle had come upon me and made me swear to him that I would never go near there again. I wouldn't have exactly thought much of it, except for the way he reacted. There was fear in his eyes, a sight that I have not once ever seen before. Mr. Holmes, I know that Jeremy is only a child, and that children have the tendency to enjoy making up stories, but I also know that he is extremely intelligent for his age. I don't know if what he has told me is entirely true, but I can't bring myself to not believe him. I have no choice but to believe him because … I've seen her too."

The room grew silent.

"Miss …?" Sherlock questioned.

"Violet, Violet Hunter. I'm sorry; I forgot I hadn't told you my name."

Sherlock continued, "Miss Hunter, I do not believe in ghosts. They do not exist. I am certain that there is an entirely logical explanation for all of this."

"Oh please do not think that I believe this woman to be a ghost!" Violet exclaimed.

"Do you not?"

"No, not at all. I am quite certain she is very real and that she is being held captive somewhere within that house. Some sort of mad woman perhaps! Will you not help me Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment then suddenly his eyes filled with glee, "Yes, Miss Hunter! I will help you!"

She left a few minutes later, declining Marian's offer of tea. The room grew quiet. Molly watched Sherlock, well aware that he was delving into his Mind Palace. Suddenly he stood up and moved in front of the fire.

"You don't object to extending our visit for a bit longer, do you Molly?" He asked her suddenly.

"What? No … Mike told me that I could take off as much time as I wanted."

"Mmm … good, for I believe that I've got a case!"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**… the idea for this case comes from an actual Sherlock Holmes story – The Adventure of the Copper Beeches. There will be similarities but I am going to add my own twist to it ;)**

**That naughty scene in the train in the beginning was inspired by a part in a film with Emmy Rossum, never actually seen it (and I don't know what the movie is called!), I just came across gifs from it on tumblr one time. **

**Didn't exactly intend for this to be such a long chapter, but ahh well! **


	16. I've Got a Case!

**Spoiler warning: There are aspects of the novel Jane Eyre mentioned in this chapter. So if you haven't read the book, and you intend to… errr sorry?**

* * *

><p>Chapter Sixteen – I've got a Case!<p>

* * *

><p>"… I've got a case!" Sherlock bounced on the balls of his feet, looking far too excited.<p>

"I thought you only got this cheerful about murders." Molly had crossed her arms in front of her chest.

He spun about, facing her, "Yes, well at this point I'll happily take anything."

She shook her head, "Bit of an odd story that woman had. What do you make of it?"

Sherlock had put his hands palm to palm, "I found it fascinating. There's always an explanation for everything. There will be an explanation for this."

Molly fought back a yawn, "I suppose _Operation_ is out of the question now?"

"Mmm, yes, I need my laptop."

With that said he left the room. Molly stood there for a moment, glad that Violet Hunter hadn't come to Sherlock for help any sooner. Letting out a resigned sigh she left the room as well, to go and take a shower.

A little while later she returned to the bedroom, toweling her wet hair. Sherlock was sat upon the bed, his legs stretched out with his laptop on top of them.

"Sherlock …"

"Mmmm?" He didn't look up from the screen, continuing to type.

"What Miss Hunter told you … there are a few similarities to the story of _Jane Eyre_."

He glanced up at her, "The novel?"

Molly climbed onto the bed, hugging her dressing gown (it was actually one of Sherlock's) tightly around her, "Mhmm. In the book Jane becomes governess to a young girl, and her employer, Mr. Rochester, has his insane wife locked up in the attic. The mad woman escapes all the time and wanders the house and eventually manages to burn it down. I don't know I just couldn't stop thinking about it the entire time Violet was speaking."

Sherlock returned his gaze to his computer screen, "Interesting. You brought the book with you, didn't you?"

"Yes!" Molly reached behind her and grabbed the novel from off the nightstand and handed it to him, "Do you think it's Mr. Rucastle's wife that is locked away?"

"Doesn't entirely seem logical. Violet told us that the mother died in childbirth. And if she didn't, and she is insane, like in the book, why wouldn't he just place her in an institution?" Sherlock was flipping through the book as he spoke.

Molly shrugged, "I'm sure those places are expensive."

Sherlock was still looking through the book, stopping every now and then, "Not likely the reason. The man is a millionaire."

"You don't think this is all some sort of farce, do you?"

Sherlock shook his head, "No. I would have been able to tell if she was lying, she wasn't."

Molly leaned back into the pillow, resting her head on her arm. She was watching him, holding back the longing to reach out and draw her fingertip along the outline of his profile. Suddenly he turned his head and his eyes met hers.

"Will you help me with this case?"

She raised her head, "Of course."

He smiled down at her, "Good." He handed the book back, "I'll need you to gather any information in here that relates to what Violet told us."

Molly sat up, "You think there may be a connection?"

"I don't know. It's possible. People have been obsessed with stories before. Perhaps this Rucastle is just an eccentric who wants to live in his own Brontë novel!"

"Good God."

"Don't worry about doing any of that tonight, "Sherlock gestured to the book still in her hands, "I know you'll want to sleep."

She gave him a lopsided smirk, "None for you then?"

"Most likely, no."

She shook her head, "Don't you dare call Lestrade until tomorrow morning!"

"Molly!" He sounded like a petulant child.

"The search through their database can wait one night."

Sherlock slumped back into his pillow, glaring at his laptop screen. With another shake of her head she pushed herself up off the mattress and put on her pyjamas. By the time she returned to the bed Sherlock was once more tapping away on his laptop.

* * *

><p>Molly woke up the next morning to the sound of Sherlock spouting expletives. Not accustomed to hearing him curse all that often she sat up quickly and gave him a questioning look.<p>

"Sorry for waking you, I'm just frustrated!" He ran his hands through his curls, ruffling them.

"What's the matter?"

"Lestrade did a full background check on Rucastle, and he came back with nothing. The man has a perfectly clean record."

Sherlock was pacing about the room.

"Did you expect them to find something?" Molly wiped the sleep from her eyes as she asked this.

"No. Not exactly. Most rich men are able to keep anything injurious to their status hushed up, hidden away, tucked under the rug."

Molly bit back a laugh, Sherlock was gesturing wildly and he looked slightly ridiculous. His curls were mussed from him running his hands through them, making him look like a mad scientist.

"Where did his money come from? How did he get so rich?" She questioned.

"Family inheritance. His great-great-grandfather was the first mayor of the town. He built this place up basically." Sherlock was still pacing.

"Have you had Lestrade look up a background on the wife?"

Sherlock grew still, "No-ooo."

"Perhaps you should!" Molly slipped out from under the sheets and moved to stand up.

She was unceremoniously shoved back down to the bed as Sherlock pounced upon her and very nearly snogged the breath out of her. When they at last parted she let out a laugh.

"Well … good morning to you too!"

He kissed her again, "I always miss something. Why didn't I think of the wife?"

She laughed again, "I don't know."

He pushed himself up off the bed and grabbed up his phone and began to text. Molly quickly changed out of her pyjamas and into one of Sherlock's shirts, covering it with a jumper and pair of black trousers.

"I suppose you won't be coming downstairs for breakfast?" She asked him, he was still standing tapping away at his phone.

"Mmm … I can come and sit with you, if you like, I won't eat though."

She put her hands upon her hips, "Sherlock! Remember what I asked of you."

He glanced up from his phone, "Fine. One scone."

She flashed him a triumphant smile before walking out of the room.

Sometime later Sherlock was in the front room with a roaring fire going. He had his laptop open in front of him and was perusing through the files that Lestrade had sent him. Molly was sat beside him going through the book and taking down the notes he had asked for. It would have been easier to go on the internet and copy and paste, but Molly didn't mind writing them down by hand.

"Impossible." Sherlock suddenly muttered.

"Hmm?" Molly looked up from what she was doing.

"An autopsy was never performed on Mrs. Rucastle after her death. Rucastle didn't allow it. She died at the house; he wanted her buried straight away. At least according to the notes that this doctor wrote."

Molly leaned forward, looking at the laptop screen, "No autopsy? That's extremely odd."

Sherlock leaned back into the sofa, pressing his hands palm to palm; Mind Palace mode. Shaking her head she returned to the book and continued to take down notes. Some minutes later the sound of Sherlock's text tone broke through the silence that had filled the room. Sherlock roused from his Mind Palace and took up his phone.

"It's Lestrade. He found more information about Rucastle's wife. Her maiden name was Harolde. Alice Harolde. Her father was Lord Chancellor in the House of Commons. Hmmm … so she comes from money as well." He sat up and began to tap away at his laptop.

"Well, their marriage attracted quite a bit of publicity!" Sherlock turned his computer slightly so that Molly could see the multiple newspaper articles he had brought up. All of them were about the Rucastle/Harolde alliance.

"I suppose Rucastle had a thing for politics? Since his great-great-grandfather had been mayor … did anyone else in his family ever pursue that?" Molly asked.  
>Sherlock nodded, "Yes. His great-grandfather, than his son, which was Rucastle's father."<p>

"Sooo … does that mean Rucastle is mayor?"

"No, he's not. Apparently doesn't have a head for politics. But they let him keep the house. There has to be something."

"Drug smuggling?

Sherlock peered at her from the corner of his eyes, casting towards her a weary look, "This is the Cotswold's Molly."

She giggled, "Mmm true. Just a suggestion!"

The both fell silent for a time. Molly closed the book and looked over what she had written down.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"Didn't Violet mention that sections of the house were closed off?"

"Yes she did."

"If Rucastle has so much money, why would he need to do that?"

Sherlock shrugged, "What's the point of spending money uselessly if there is a way to avoid it. A lot of people do that with old houses."

Molly leaned back into the sofa, stretching her arms above her head and yawning, "Perhaps it's not closed off at all. Perhaps he turned it into an entire private section, just for this woman. And perhaps sometimes she manages to enter into the other part of the house."

Sherlock looked up from his laptop, staring ahead. Molly could practically see the wheels turning in his brain.

"Molly, you're brilliant."

She felt herself blush, "Well ahhh …"

"That is entirely possible. The house is massive, have a look at it." Sherlock returned his gaze to the laptop, typed a few words into a search engine and the Rucastle home popped up on the screen.

"Wow."

The house was enormous. And was most definitely more a mansion than a mere house.

"How many rooms does it have?" She asked.

"The website says fifteen. It used to be open to the public, for tours. But that came to an end …" He paused, leaning closer to the screen reading the words; he then turned to Molly, their eyes meeting, "That ended six years ago."

"Violet said that Jeremy was six years old, didn't she?"

Sherlock nodded, "I think Violet was correct. There is something not right about this house."

* * *

><p>Later that evening Violet returned for another visit. There were scratch marks upon her face. She appeared to be more nervous than she was the last time.<p>

"Violet, if you don't mind me asking … I don't want to be rude, but what happened to you?" Molly's voice was filled with concern.

The young woman's eyes filled with tears, "Jeremy had the most awful fit this morning. I've never seen him act like that before. He started screaming and hitting me with his little fists. When I tried to pick him up to comfort him he slapped my cheek, dragging his nails into my skin. He's become so violent. And whenever I mention it to Mr. Rucastle he just chuckles and tells me that he's just being a typical boy. That is not true. I have been a nanny to several boys, all around the same age and they never acted like that!"

Sherlock's hands were palm to palm, the tips of his fingers leaning against his mouth, "Do you know if Mr. Rucastle had anyone else in his employ prior to you? Surely he must have, a single father with a young son, I highly doubt that he is aware of how to take care of a child."

"Yes, he did. An old woman, she had been with the family for many years, raised Mr. Rucastle in fact. But she died, just last year, shortly before I began to work for him."

"Damn." Sherlock muttered beneath his breath, "Does he employ servants?"

"Sherlock! This is modern times! No one has servants!" Molly exclaimed.

He ignored her comment, waiting for Violet's reply.

"Yes, in a way. He has a cook, and a woman that cleans the house, and a gardener. That's it."

"Do they live in the house, or in the village?"

"In the house." She replied.

"Why did you move into the house, and not stay in the village?"

"I couldn't afford it anymore, and when Mr. Rucastle discovered my money troubles he offered for me to come and live there. I didn't accept him right away, I thought about it long and hard, but I didn't know what else to do. So I moved in."

"How did Mr. Rucastle come about hiring you?" Sherlock leaned forward slightly as he asked this question.

"Through a nanny agency."

"Hmmm … were you the only nanny he interviewed?"

"I think so, yes."

"Were there ever any rumors, gossip about the Rucastle family?"

Violet thought for a moment, "No, not that I can recall. I only moved to this village a year and a half ago. I wanted somewhere nice and quiet, a bit laid back. I used to live in London, but I grew tired of the hustle and bustle."

Sherlock moved his hands to the tops of his legs, drumming his fingertips upon the fabric of his trousers, "When was it that you saw this woman, dressed all in white?"

"About three weeks ago. There was a storm. Jeremy hates storms; he's terrified of the thunder. I had gone into his room to stay with him until it passed. When he was finally asleep I left his room and was returning to mine. The hallway was completely dark, except for the faint light from outside. I was walking when suddenly I heard a nose, it sounded like footsteps. I stopped, thinking that perhaps it was Mr. Rucastle. But when I looked behind me I saw that it was not him, but a woman. A woman dressed entirely in white. She almost appeared to be glowing, it was so strange. I froze; I didn't know what to do. She was looking at me, studying me. Then suddenly she raised her hands, like this," Violet demonstrated, stretching out her arms with her palms facing upwards, "And she said to me, 'Have you come to save me? Have you come to take me away?' If Jeremy hadn't told me about her, I would have thought that I was dreaming; that I had fallen asleep beside him, but I knew that I wasn't dreaming. I knew that this woman before me was very real. I moved to approach her, but there was a sudden noise down at the opposite end of the hall. When I turned to see what had made the sound she let out a great shriek and disappeared into the shadows. I never saw her again."

Sherlock placed his hands palm to palm once more, "Violet, are there any photographs of Mrs. Rucastle around the house?"

"Yes, there are quite a few."

"Did this woman in white look anything like her?"

Violet shook her head, "I'm not certain, I don't think so. I couldn't quite make out her face, it was so dark. Do you think this woman is Mr. Rucastle's wife? But she's dead!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "I've come to discover that those who die are not always dead."

Violet gave him a questioning look and Molly had to hide a smile behind her hand.

"Does Mr. Rucastle pay you well?" Sherlock inquired.

"Yes, very well."

"Has he ever been late in paying you?"

"No."

"Not even once?"

"No. Never."

"Hmmm… so he has never appeared to have money troubles?"

Violet shook her head, "No. Not that ever noticed. There's always an abundance of food. Jeremy is always having new clothes delivered, and toys."

Sherlock pressed the tips of his fingers to his mouth again, "Does Mr. Rucastle have a library?"

Violet's eyes lit up and she gushed, "Oh yes! An incredibly extensive one! It's beautiful!"

"What sort of books does he own?"

The nervous look was gone from her face, it was clear that she had entered into her element. Violet Hunter was most certainly a bibliophile.

"I always go in there when Jeremy is taking a nap. Mr. Rucastle told me when I first moved in that I could read whatever I liked. It's positively heaven in there!"

"Yes, but what are the books that he has?"

"Oh all sorts, he owns a large variety. And a lot of them are very old. Antiques by the look of them."

"Anything by the Brontë sisters?"

"Yes! He has a rather large collection of them, a few editions of _Wuthering Heights_, and one or two by Anne, but the majority are of _Jane Eyre_. I've never seen so many different editions of one book, combined they probably are all worth a small fortune, I wouldn't doubt it. Why do you ask?"

Sherlock shared a look with Molly before saying, "Have you ever read it, _Jane Eyre_?"

"Yes, it's one of my favourite novels."

"Do you think there are any similarities to your current situation, to that of the situation in the book?"

Violet's eyes grew massive, "NO! It can't be! You believe that Mr. Rucastle has his wife shut up in the house? That she's insane, like Mrs. Rochester?"

"It's entirely possible."

Violet grew pale, "That's horrible! Why would he do that?"

"That is what I am determined to find out."

* * *

><p>Molly was suddenly roused from her sleep, "Sherlock what?"<p>

"I need to ask you something."

"It's 4 o'clock! You couldn't wait until morning?"

"It is morning." He deadpanned.

The glare she fixed upon him would have made a lesser man run for cover.

"What is your question?"

"Bertha Mason, she was married to Rochester for her money, was she not?"

"Yes. Rochester hardly ever saw her before the wedding; he was never really left alone with her."

"Because she was insane?"

"Yes. He didn't discover this until after they were married though."

"Hmmm…"

"Do you think that's what happened with Rucastle? That Alice Harolde is insane, and he didn't know this until after they were married?" Molly questioned sleepily.

"Yes. Once they were married they were never in the public eye again. There were never any public appearances; they were hardly ever discussed in the papers. When her father died, he left her all of his money. She was his only child, and his wife had passed several years earlier."

"So why not just have her placed in an institution?" Molly scrubbed at her eyes, yawning.

"To avoid scandal! The media would have pounced on it." He spoke this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"All right, that does make sense. But why fake her death?"

Sherlock tapped his finger on his bottom lip, "The money. Her father's money."

"Rucastle faked his wife's death to get her money?"

"Yes."

"That's horrible."

Sherlock tapped the tip of his finger on his bottom lip, "Rucastle must have needed her money."

"But I thought you said he was a millionaire."

"Mmm, _was_! Perhaps he isn't anymore. He may have lost all of his money somehow. Must look into that."

Molly smiled at him, then reached up and ruffled his hair, "My busy little bee!"

Sherlock grimaced slightly but allowed her to pull him down to the mattress.

"Stay with me? At least until I fall back to sleep? I miss your warmth." She had her arms about his neck.

He nodded and put his own arms about her, holding her close. She kissed him gently before snuggling up against him. Sherlock stayed beside her, delving into his Mind Palace while Molly slept in his arms.

As soon as the sun rose he slipped out of the bed and went to take a shower. By the time Molly woke he was downstairs sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and his laptop. He offered her a plate of scones when she walked over to him. She planted a kiss upon his forehead and sat down beside him.

"Where are your mum and dad?"

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, "Dad went out for a walk, and mummy is somewhere about the house. Actually, I need to talk to her, MUMMY!"

Molly grimaced slightly, taking note that he often yelled for Mrs. Hudson the same way.

"Yes, William? What is it?" Marian questioned as she walked into the kitchen.

"The Rucastle's. What do you know about them?"

"Not much really, they were a rather private family."

"But one of them was always Mayor!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Oh in the Mayoral sense they were wonderful. But other than that they kept to themselves. They were not a very public family."

"So you know nothing then, about the wife dying and all that?"

Marian shook her head, "There were rumors, gossip that flitted about, we all thought her death was a bit odd. But no one thought too much of it because we hardly ever saw her. We supposed that she was just one of those hermit types."

"Did you ever meet Rucastle?"

"No actually. I never did. I met his father, he was a pleasant enough man, but I never met the son."

Sherlock returned to his laptop, annoyed by the fact that his mother hadn't been of much help. Suddenly his phone began to ring. He grabbed for it, and with a weary shake of her head Marian left the kitchen. Molly continued to nibble on the scone, stealing sips from Sherlock's coffee. He sent a glare towards her but she duly ignored it.

"What did you find Gavin?"

Molly stared up at the ceiling, certain that Sherlock would never get poor Lestrade's name right.

"Gambling? You sure? Under a pseudonym? Excellent."

He hung up, tossing the phone to the table before opening up his email on the laptop, "Geoff found out that Rucastle is in major debt from online gambling."

Molly leaned forward as Sherlock pulled up multiple lists of bank statements, "Mark Rochester? Wow, that man is definitely obsessed with _Jane Eyre_. How did Greg find this?"

Sherlock shrugged, not thinking that the information was significant, "This is why he faked his wife's death. He needed her money."

"Why would he fake her death though, why wouldn't he just kill her?"

"As boring as this answer is, most people aren't capable of murder."

"Given the right circumstances they are."

Sherlock eyed Molly, intrigued by the fact that she was so blatant with her comments. He found his cock giving a slight twitch. He shifted his hips, not exactly wanting to give in to his sexual urges at the moment; he needed to solve this case! Damn her for looking so delectable, bed hair and all!

He cleared his throat, "The man is probably a coward."

Molly shrugged, then nodded her head in agreement entirely ignorant to Sherlock's current state of arousal, and grabbed another scone off the plate. By the time she had finished eating breakfast, and had finished up her coffee Sherlock was still tapping away at his laptop, every once in a while firing off a text to Lestrade.

She had just finished placing her mug and dish into the sink to wash when she spun about and faced Sherlock. He glanced up at her with a questioning look.

"Rucastle wouldn't murder his wife, because Rochester doesn't! Rochester keeps his wife locked up because he couldn't bring himself to place her in an institution; those places were horrible back then. If Rucastle is as obsessed with the novel as we think him to be, then he would do exactly as Rochester does. Rochester keeps his marriage a secret, thus no one in the village knows of Bertha Mason's existence. Rucastle wasn't quite so lucky though, so instead he fakes his wife's death."

Within a matter of seconds Sherlock had bound up from the table and was now holding Molly in his arms, kissing her deeply, hungrily, pressing her into the sink. When his hands started to wander, slipping beneath her shirt, his fingertips ghosting across her skin, she gently pushed him away.

"Sherlock…" She breathed, "We're in your parent's kitchen!"

He dropped his head down to her shoulder, panting slightly, "I know. I got a bit carried away. Sorry, I rather like it when you … do that."

She turned her head and bumped her nose against his jaw line, "Do what?" She teased.

He peered at her from out of the corner of his eye, "Ramble off like that … so intelligently."

She giggled, "Ahhh." Rather enjoying him being so flustered, "Perhaps I should … uhh … leave you to it?" Her eyes flittered downwards to the prominent bulge in his trousers, "I think I need to go take a shower."

Before he could say a word she had ducked out of his embrace.

"Damn." He muttered beneath his breath as she hurried from the kitchen. He returned to the table, forcing his mind to focus on the case and not on the fact that Molly was currently upstairs getting naked. Nope, not thinking about that at all.

A little while later, just as Molly had returned to the kitchen freshly showered, there was a frantic knocking at the door. Marian answered it and they were all greeted with the sounds of a child crying hysterically.

"I didn't know where else to go!" Violet Hunter's voice was barely made out over the child's screaming cries.

Molly looked at Sherlock before the pair of them hurried from the kitchen. Marian had ushered Violet into the front room.

"Violet what happened?" Molly asked her as she ran to her side.

The young woman was holding a little boy in her arms, cradling him to her chest.

"Jeremy was attacked. Attacked by that awful woman! Look at his neck! She tried to strangle him!" Violet was very near tears herself, "I had to get him out of there! I didn't know what else to do! I haven't seen Mr. Rucastle for several days! No one has!"

"Dear, let me hold him for a little while." Marian held her arms out for the boy.

Violet hesitated for a few moments, then lifted him up to her. He was still crying incessantly. Marian rocked him back and forth, rubbing her hand up and down his back, speaking to him in a soothing tone. He clung to her, fat tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Why would she do that to him? Who is this woman? Is she really his wife, that poor boy's mother? I don't understand anything anymore!" Violet was nearing hysterics.

Molly put her arm around Violet, trying to calm her down.

"I think it's time I pay Mr. Rucastle a visit." Sherlock declared.

Violet looked up at him through her tears, "Oh no! You mustn't! He doesn't take visitors! He once chased a man off his property with a gun!"

Sherlock shook his head, "This case needs to be solved. And solve it I shall. A man with a gun won't stop me. Stay here with Jeremy, call a doctor if need be." He strode from the room.

Molly watched him leave, thought to herself for a minute then hurried after him.

"I'm coming with you!" She stated firmly as he pulled on his Belstaff.

He spun about and faced her, "Molly, no. You heard her; this man is dangerous, probably just as mad as his wife. You're not coming with me."

She stepped closed to him, "Yes I am. Leave and I'll just follow you. You're not going there alone."

He gave her a pointed look then grabbed her coat and held it out to her. With a triumphant smile she pulled it on and tugged on her boots. They left the house and began to make their way towards the Rucastle estate.

"You will do exactly as I say. If I tell you to run, run. I'll never forgive myself if you end up being in danger."

Molly sniffed, "You put John in danger all of the time!"

"Yes, but I don't love him the way that I love you."

She bit down on her bottom lip, suppressing the urge to throw herself into his arms and kiss him. They walked silently for fifteen minutes, until the mansion came into view. As they grew closer, a gunshot reverberated around them. Sherlock grabbed her arm and pulled her down behind some bushes. They waited, panting.

Suddenly a man's voice roared, "YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!"

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**DUN! DUN! DUN!**

**Sorry to end it there, but I had no choice; otherwise this chapter would be over 8,000 words long! **

**Let me know what you think please! I've struggled with this Case Idea quite a bit! :-/**

**-Also, my updating will be slowing down quite drastically from now on ... with the holidays approaching ... sorry! Don't worry, I will keep writing, it's just my access to a computer will be limited. I may get a chance to update again this Wednesday ... and after that I won't be updating again until next week, and from there I'm not sure. I have alot of family coming to visit ... Don't give up on me! This story will be continued ;)**


	17. You are Not Welcome Here!

Chapter Seventeen – YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!

* * *

><p>"YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!" A man's voice roared.<p>

"Stay down." Sherlock hissed to her. He slowly rose to his feet, holding his arms up in surrender, "Mr. Rucastle, I just want to ask you some questions."

Another gun shot. Molly shrieked, clamping her hand over her mouth. Sherlock hadn't even flinched.

"I answer nobody's questions!"

"Mr. Rucastle, if you answer _my_ questions, you'll never be bothered again."

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Let me into your house, and you'll find out."

Molly peered through the bushes, catching sight of a man holding a hunting rifle directly aimed towards Sherlock.

"I let no one in this house!" The man all but screamed.

"Oh, but you let Violet Hunter in, did you not?"

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"She came to me for help. She told me that she's seen a woman lurking about the place. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"

Molly watched as the man slowly lowered his rifle.

"Into the house. NOW."

Sherlock lowered his arms and began to move away from the bush.

"Not just you, you're little woman friend as well."

Sherlock froze then slowly turned back around to face Molly, his expression was tense. She came to her feet and Sherlock held his hand out to her. They walked together towards the house. Rucastle kept a keen eye on them, his rifle held tightly in his hands.

"Inside."

Molly was rather surprised he didn't nudge them with the butt of the barrel. She honestly felt as if she had entered into a movie. Once they were inside Molly slowly looked about her. The house was clearly very old, and was not well taken care of. It smelled musty, as if the windows hadn't been opened in ages.

"Now, tell me, what has Violet gone and told you?"

Sherlock turned around and faced Rucastle. He had raised his rifle again, aiming at him.

"Not all that much really. I figured most of it out myself." Sherlock drawled.

Molly resisted the urge to roll her eyes, even in the presence of a madman he had the gall to show off his ego.

"What did you figure out then, eh?"

Sherlock rambled off his deductions, telling the man about his gambling habit, his obsession with the Brontë novel, the faked death of the wife to get her money, and that he had her locked up somewhere within this very house.

"Ahh yes, well done. Well done. I've heard about you. Wasn't there some sort of scandal? Something about you being a fake?"

Sherlock said nothing, only continued to stare impassively at the man.

"Ahh yes, figured out my love for _Jane Eyre _did you? Fantastic novel. Fantastic. Bet I am the only man to ever live the life of a novel, eh? Shame that the world will never know … since you have found out so much about me, I can't let you leave, not alive at least. You'll just go straight to the police and I'll be sent to prison. Can't have that now, can we? No, we can't have that. And my poor dear wife, she'll be sent to an asylum. No, no, no. That won't do. I devoted an entire wing of the house to her, made it up all nice, and still she isn't happy. Ungrateful bitch! Up the stairs with the pair of you, I'll have to lock you up, and deal with you later. Violet needs to be taken care of first, meddlesome whore, damn her too for being a lesbian! Should have made sure of her sexuality before hiring her. Marrying the nanny would have been the finishing touch." Rucastle beckoned towards the staircase with the rifle.

Sherlock gave Molly's hand a tug and they began to climb the stairs, Rucastle following closely behind them. He directed them down a long hall then had them enter one of the rooms. The room was pitch-black, the windows having been long ago bricked up.

"You'll be quite comfortable here, I assure you. Don't think you can escape either. There's no way out. No way out at all!" He started to cackle as he backed out of the room, still holding the rifle. He swung the door shut and Molly listened as he locked it from the outside. Neither one of them moved as they heard the sound of Rucastle's footsteps dying away.

"This was why I didn't want you to come with me Molly!" Sherlock all but growled as he moved towards the door and tried to force it open.

It was no use, the door wouldn't budge. He looked over the lock and took note that not only was it very old, but it was also extremely rusted. Picking it open was a futile option. But he would give it a try.

Thirty minutes passed with no result. The lock was far too rusted, it wouldn't budge. He threw up his hands in disgust, and began pacing about the room. Molly had crumbled to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Surely someone would come, eventually.

Sherlock continued to pace the room, holding up his phone, desperate to find a signal, but there was not a one, "Damn."

Taking a torch from his pocket he strode about the room. Odd bits and pieces of furniture were strewn about, it was clear that this particular room had not been used for some time, and was not part of the house that had been 'made up all nice.'

"We must be in a part of the closed off section of the house." Molly noted, standing up as she hugged her coat more closely about her; it had begun to grow colder.

"There has to be another way out." Sherlock muttered beneath his breath.

Molly took out her phone, amazed by the amount of time that had already passed. She didn't have a signal either. She watched as Sherlock continued to move about the room. She wanted to do something to help, anything, but she felt utterly useless.

"Do you think Rucastle has left? To go and find Violet?" She asked.

"No. That was an empty threat. The man is a massive coward. And a terrible shot."

"What is he going to do with us?"

Sherlock turned to face Molly, "I don't know. I don't like not knowing."

She shuddered slightly. He peered at her for a moment then walked over to her and held her closer.

"We'll get out of this Molly."

She clung to him tightly. They both grew silent, standing there in the middle of the room. There were no other sounds. It almost seemed as if they were alone in the world.

"Sherlock!" Molly's voice broke through the silence in a hoarse whisper, her hand grabbing tightly onto the arm of his coat.

He turned his head to look down at her, barely making out her face in the darkness of the room. The faint glow of the torch was the only light, allowing him to just make out her widened eyes. He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, she held on to him with a vice-like grip. It wasn't until she repeated his name that he realized she wasn't just speaking because she was frightened of their current situation, but because she was seeing something. His head whipped around, his eyes alighting up the glowing white figure that stood before them.

_The Wife. _

"Have you come to take me away?" The white figure spoke. Her voice was soft, lilting, almost like a child's, "I want to go away. I don't like it here. I can never see the sun. I'm not allowed to see the sun. I want to breathe the air. I want to be left alone. Take me away, please." She rose up her arms, her palms facing upwards.

Sherlock heard Molly's breath hitch. The white figure hadn't moved. She was still standing near the wall. When Molly sniffled he suddenly realized that she was crying.

The white figure's arms dropped to her sides, "You won't take me away from here? You won't save me? I've tried to run away, so many times, but he stopped me, he would always stop me. I tried to kill myself, put end to the pain, to the voices in my head, but even in that he would not let me succeed. He is not a good man. He is not a good man. He is not a good man. He is not a good man." She crumbled into a heap upon the floor, continuing to repeat the same sentence over and over, as she rocked back and forth.

"Sherlock … what do we do? We have to save her. We have to get her out of here." Molly was still holding tightly onto Sherlock's hand, but had her eyes on the woman, neither one of them had moved.

"How? I can't pick the lock, it won't work."

Molly at last tore her gaze away from the woman on the floor, her eyes widening, "Sherlock! This is a centuries old house, there's bound to be secret passageways throughout! I am sure that if we find one, we could sneak her out of here."

He looked at Molly, "Even if we could, I'm not letting her near you. She's dangerous Molly! Look at what she did to her son!"

"And you think she won't attack you? Why would she trust _you_? You're a man; she probably associates every male that she sees with her husband. If there is anyone that she can trust, it could very well be me!"

"Molly, no. I won't let you."

"Yes you will. Because you know it's the only way."

"It's not the only way! There are bound to be others!"

Molly practically stamped her foot upon the floor, "Sherlock let me do this! You can get out of here and contact the police! I'll get her as far away as possible from here."

"And what if she runs away from you? Takes off? What then?"

Molly shook her head, "She won't."

"How are you so certain?"

"I just am."  
>Molly could see that Sherlock was working out every possible outcome in his head.<p>

"Fine. But if she hurts you I'll never forgive myself, nor her."

Molly took his face in her hands and kissed him, "Thank you. Now just let me talk to her, she's made her way into other parts of the house, so she's bound to know her way around here."

He gave Molly another kiss before quietly stepping back into the shadows. Molly slowly approached the woman curled up on the floor.

"Alice?" She spoke her name softly.

The woman stopped rocking and slowly raised her head.

"Alice, my name is Molly. I'm here to help you." She kneeled down before her, but kept a safe distance from her, not wanting to make her feel trapped.

"Molly … are you here to save me?"

"Yes. I am going to take you away."

With a great cry Alice flung herself towards Molly, wrapping her arms about her. Molly froze, uncertain of what Alice was doing, and terrified that Sherlock would rush forward, but when she realized that she was just hugging her Molly cradled her in her arms, speaking softly to her in soothing tones.

"You're going to be all right Alice."

The woman was trembling in Molly's arms.

"We have to get out of here, Alice. Do you know the way out? A secret way?"

Alice lifted her head and nodded, "Yes. I once escaped. But he caught me."

"He won't catch you this time. Show me the way?"

They stood and Alice took Molly's hand, "This way!"

She led her towards a bare wall. For a second Molly was worried that perhaps Alice was entering into some sort of episode and that all of this was to be for naught. But when Alice pressed her hand into the wall and a hidden door sprung open Molly let out a breath of relief.

Alice led her into the darkness, Sherlock following silently behind. Molly took out her phone and used the light from it. Alice let out a slight shriek but when Molly showed her where the light was coming from she calmed down.

"You're saving me. You're saving me." Alice spoke this like a chant as they continued down a long, dark corridor. It was damp and chilly; it smelled as if it had not been used in many, many years.

"Alice, where does this lead to?"

"Outside. A great big hill outside."

"Away from the house?"

"Yes. Far, far away."

"Does it lead anywhere else?"

"Yes. If we were to turn here it would take us directly to the kitchen, but we don't want that. No we don't want that."

Molly held out her hand behind her, and felt Sherlock brush his fingers across hers. It was time for them to part. In spite of her confidence in Alice not hurting her, Molly wished that Sherlock could stay with them. But she knew that it would be the wiser thing for him not to. She tried to listen for the sound of his retreating footsteps, but couldn't make them out over Alice's soft chatter.

The pair of them continued on for what seemed like hours, but was only thirty-minutes, according to Molly's mobile. At times it seemed as if they were going further underground, then at others the floor would ascend. By the light of her phone Molly spotted that they were approaching a small door. Suddenly Alice froze. Molly gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm scared." Alice turned and buried her face in Molly's chest, curling into her like a frightened child. Molly gently rocked her.

"It's all right. You're safe. He won't get you."

"He was waiting for me. He is always waiting for me."

Molly held her closer, "Not this time. He won't be this time."

Alice was shaking now.

"Shhhh … you're safe. I am going to keep you safe."

Alice began to sob.

"It's all right Alice, he won't hurt you anymore. You need not be frightened of him. You are safe now."

Alice continued to cling to her.

"Want me to check? Make sure that no one is there?"

Alice nodded, easing off her hold from Molly. She hugged her arms tightly about her own person, leaning into the wall. Molly approached the door, hoping that it would not be locked. It looked old, and worn. She grasped the handled and turned it. With a great creak it slowly opened. After letting out a sigh of relief she glanced back at Alice who was still huddled against the wall. Molly had never felt such a strong hatred for another person, as she did for the man who had done such terrible things to this poor woman. She stepped outside, taking deep breaths of the clear air. Not a soul was in sight. She turned back around, standing in the door way, beckoning to Alice.

"It's all right. There's no one here! Trust me Alice. You're safe now!"

Ever so slowly Alice approached her.

"He's not there? He's not waiting?"

Molly shook her head, "No. He's not here." She held her hand out to her.

Alice took her hand and allowed Molly to lead her out the door and into the cold air. The sun had yet to set, but it was already beginning to grow slowly darker. Night was approaching.

"THE SKY!" Alice cried out triumphantly, spreading her arms out wide as she stared up at the firmament.

Molly watched her in awe, her heart breaking at the thought that this young woman had been subjected to such horrible torture for so many years. Suddenly Molly's phone began to ring. She glanced down at it and saw that she had service.

"Molly! Where are you? Are you safe? Are you all right?"

"Sherlock slow down! I'm fine. We're outside. We're –" Molly spun about, searching for the house, "I-I don't know where we are exactly. I can't see the house anymore."

Alice continued to stare up at the sky in wonder, circling about in a sort of dance.

"Molly, can you tell at all where you are?

"No, I'm really not sure how far away we are from the house. Nothing here looks familiar."

"Molly, stay where you are. I'm coming to you."

"Sherlock, is he, did Rucastle get away?"

"No. He is in police custody."

Molly let out a sigh of relief, "Oh thank God."

"She didn't hurt you, did she?"

"No. Not at all. What is going to happen to her? Where will she be taken?"

"There are people on their way from the nearest hospital. They'll take care of her."

"Ok."

"I'm coming to you Molly, wait for me."

"I'll wait."

Molly tucked her phone back into her pocket, turning back towards Alice who was now skipping about like a child on holiday.

"Am I free Molly? Am I free?"

"Yes Alice, you're free."

"FREE!" She spun about in a wild circle as she exclaimed this, and then fell to the ground.

Molly rushed towards her to make sure that she wasn't hurt. Alice only laughed, continuing to stare up at the sky. Molly sat down next to her, waiting patiently for Sherlock's arrival.

"What will happen now? Where can I go?"

Molly worried her bottom lip, not entirely sure of what to tell her.

"There are people that are coming to help you Alice. They will take care of you, they will keep you safe. You'll be able to see the sky everyday. Breathe the air."

"Will I?" There was fear in Alice's eyes as she asked this question, but also hope, "I had given up on this ever happening. I'm not a cruel person, I hate violence. But I became so angry that I couldn't get away. I look at my son, I see him and he doesn't know me. He doesn't know who I am. That angered me, angered me so much, I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't know what I was doing! I couldn't stop myself, I had lost all control. I'm not a bad person Molly. I'm not a bad person!" She burst into tears.

Molly took her in her arms and held her, "No Alice. You're not a bad person. You won't be punished. These people only want to help you, they won't hurt you. You won't be hurt. You don't need to be frightened anymore."

Suddenly Sherlock appeared before them, panting heavily, Molly couldn't imagine how he had managed to get to them so quickly. When he moved towards them she silently held up her hand, and he stopped.

"Alice, do you see this man?"

She slowly raised her head, cowering when she saw him.

"He won't hurt you. He's a nice man. He's going to help us Alice. He's going to take you to a safe place. Not all men are bad Alice. He is not a bad man. His name is Sherlock. He is going to help you, he wants to help you. We will be safe with him. You can trust him." Molly was running her hand up and down Alice's back, speaking to her in a soothing tone, "Will you trust him Alice?"

"Yes."

Molly helped her to her feet, and only then did Sherlock approach them.

"Hello Alice." Sherlock had turned down his coat collar.

"Take me away?" She asked him.

"Yes."

Molly put her arm around Alice's shoulders, "Come on, let's go somewhere warm."

Sherlock shrugged off his coat and handed it to Molly, "Give this to her."

She draped it over Alice's shoulders, and Alice took a hold of it and wrapped it tightly about herself. They began to walk, Sherlock leading the way.

"Do you know where to go?" Molly asked him.

"I have an idea."

By the time the house came into view, stars were beginning to faintly appear in the sky. Alice let out a shriek, and turned to run away. Molly grabbed a hold of her before she could.

"No! Don't Alice! It's all right! We're not going in the house! You're not going back there!" Molly wrapped her arms about her, holding onto Alice's trembling form, "I know, I'm sorry. We only need to go a little bit closer. That's all. We're not going inside. You're never going back into that house."

Molly looked at Sherlock, silently pleading with him. With a nod, he strode off towards the house. Molly continued to hold onto Alice as she shook with sobs. It was no use; Alice would not move any closer. A few minutes passed as she continued to cry. She had her back to the place, thus giving Molly a clear view of it. She watched as an ambulance began its approach towards them.

"Alice, these are people that are going to help you. They are going to take you far, far away from here. You will be safe with them. You can trust them."

Alice's sobs had turned into stuttering sniffles, "Can I?"

"Yes. You can."

The ambulance pulled up beside them and three women stepped out of the vehicle. Molly was pleased to see that there weren't any men. Alice eyed them all warily.

"Alice? My name is Anna. Would you like to come with us?" One of the women beckoned to her.

Ever so slowly Alice released her arms from around Molly, "Can you take me away?"

"Yes, we are going to take you away. We are going to take you somewhere safe."

She stepped away from Molly, dropping the coat from her shoulders as she slowly approached Anna. Molly watched as they helped her into the ambulance. When the doors closed behind them and the vehicle began to drive off Molly couldn't help but allow a few tears to be shed.

"That was very brave of you Molly, all that you did for her."

Sherlock had appeared without warning, much in the way that he always did. Molly flung her arms about him, holding on to him tightly. He held her close.

"Did Rucastle give you any trouble?"

"He's dead."

"What?" Molly stepped back and looked up at Sherlock.

"I didn't shoot him. He shot himself."

"How horrible."

"I wouldn't exactly say that. He deserved to die. No human being should be allowed to get away with what he did to her."

A great shudder ran through Molly and Sherlock took her back into his arms. After a few moments she tilted her head back and he pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her. She brought her hands up to his curls, kissing him back.

"Thank God that's all over! Can we get away from here?" She asked him, panting against his lips.

"Yes." His voice was husky, a bit deeper.

He took up his coat from the ground and pulled it back on. The sun had now fully set as they began walking back towards his parent's home, both of them glad to have their backs to the Rucastle estate. They were cutting across a farm, to save time Sherlock had told her. No one was about. The farm almost appeared deserted. There weren't even any animals in sight. The only sign that this was a working farm was the fresh piles of hay that dotted the field. Suddenly, without a word Sherlock suddenly pounced upon her.

"Sherlock!" Molly squealed as he pushed her downwards, until her back was nestled against the hay; knowing exactly what he was intending to do, "We're outside! Someone might see us!"

* * *

><p><strong>.<br>**

**.**

**.**

**Oooo … isn't Sherlock naughty! Celebratory outdoor sex?! :O **

**Hope this case was convincing enough … I struggled with it a bit! Please leave a review and let me know what you think! :D **

**I also don't know for certain when I will be able to update next, sorry!**

**Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! **


	18. Someone Might See Us!

**I have returned! Sorry to keep you all waiting!**

**Expect another update Wednesday (I hope), but after that I probably won't be able to update again until either Monday (8th Dec) or Tuesday (9th Dec.) Sorry! But I have my Aunt and my sister coming to visit for my Mum's 60th birthday so I'll be happily busy :)**

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter, I give you some lovely smut ;)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Eighteen – Someone Might See Us<p>

* * *

><p>"Someone might see us!" Molly squealed as Sherlock pushed her down into the pile of hay.<p>

"It's dark out. No one is around to see. I need you Molly, and I know you need me too!"

"But-!"

He quieted her exclamation with a kiss as he undid the button and zip of her trousers. She kissed him back hungrily in spite of her protestations, moaning softly into his mouth.

"It's too cold out here!" She stated once they had parted for breath.

"I'll keep you warm." He told her, he pulled his arms out of his Belstaff but kept it over himself, letting the sides fall down so that it cocooned the pair of them.

He returned his fingers to her trousers, giving them a gentle tug downwards. The moan that escaped her as he dipped his fingers beneath her knickers, slipping them between her folds so that he could directly stroke her clit, was nearly his undoing. He gave the tender nub a few more strokes before making quick work of tugging down her pants before unbuttoning his own trousers. She gasped as he entered her with one solid thrust.

"Warm. So warm." He murmured into her skin as he held himself inside of her delicious wet heat.

She had slipped her hands underneath his coat and was clinging tightly to his shoulders, her fingertips digging into his shirt, as he began to thrust in and out of her with a desperation he had never quite felt before.

"It's been too long Molly!" He groaned into her neck, "Too long!"

She moved her legs until her ankles were resting on top of his calves, pressing her hips up to meet his, not caring in the slightest that the hay beneath her was digging into her arse. He was delving into her fully, reveling in the tightness of her around him.

"Sherlock! OH! Don't stop!"

He kissed her, "Never." He stated, their eyes meeting.

They kissed again, oblivious to all around them, only aware of the sensations that their joined bodies were creating. With a few more deep thrusts they came together. He silenced her cry with a kiss, drowning out a moan into her mouth.

He rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting heavily. She was still clinging tightly to his shirt. He pulled her close up against him, wrapping the Belstaff tightly around their still joined bodies. She was shivering.

"Molly? Are you all right?" Sherlock rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone.

"That was … that felt amazing. It _has _been too long Sherlock." She told him breathlessly, she held onto him tighter, and he kissed her forehead.

"You're not cold?" He asked her.

She shook her head, "Not anymore."

"We should have done this a lot sooner."

Molly tilted her head up slightly so that she could look at him, he was pouting, "You had the case Sherlock. We both know how you are. And I was rather persistent about the no shagging in your parent's house."

He tightened his hold around her waist and looked down at her, "Never again." He stated firmly. "I'm not going to deny myself what I want and need anymore. Nor should you. I'm sorry I've been so distant."

"Sherlock! You haven't been distant at all! I've actually been rather surprised by how attentive you've been, I thought you would shut me out, constantly be in your Mind Palace."

He placed his forehead against hers once more, "I never shut you out. Don't ever tell this to John or Lestrade, but I wouldn't have been able to solve this case without you! You were brilliant Molly!"

She kissed him, hissing softly into his mouth as she felt him beginning to lengthen inside of her once more.

"We shouldn't stay here." She told him firmly, "It's going to be dark soon, and the temperature will begin to drop."

He shifted his hips forward slightly, dragging his hardening cock against her inner walls, "But I want you again!" He groaned.

"Sherlock, NO! Once was bad enough, we're not doing it here again. I have bloody hay practically up my arse!"

He gave a snort then grumbled into her neck.

"Take me back to the house." She told him firmly.

He lifted up his head and looked down at her, "Does that mean you'll let me have you in my childhood bed?"

She bit down on her bottom lip, not realizing that she was just making him want her all the more, "You and your strange fantasies … yes! All right, we can do it there. But we'll have to be quiet, or I'll never be able to face your mother again!"

With that said Sherlock pulled himself out of her and (with difficulty) tucked himself back into his trousers and did them back up. He kissed her before helping her zip up her own trousers. Molly giggled as she pulled out bits of hay from her clothing as he helped her to stand.

"You better close up your coat; don't want to give anyone a nasty shock!" She gave the prominent bulge in his trousers a good look.

He grabbed her hand, buttoning up his coat as he led her away from their little tryst spot. Ten minutes later they returned to the house. All was dark inside.

"Have your parents gone to bed? It's fairly early! I thought your mother would stay up, worrying about your safety! And what about Violet and Jeremy? Where could they have gone?" Molly asked him as he took out his key and unlocked the door.

He let out a snort, "My mother doesn't worry. She knows me too well. Mummy? Dad?" Sherlock called out as they stepped inside.

There was no answer.

Molly made her way towards the kitchen as Sherlock turned on a few lights. She spotted a piece of paper on the table.

"Sherlock, there's a note!" She called out to him.

He came up behind her and picked it up.

"Have taken Violet and Jeremy to hospital. Don't wait up for us, will most likely be back late." He read.

Molly laughed softly, "Don't wait up for us? You're mother is adorable."

The note dropped from Sherlock's fingers and he quickly spun about, "We have the house to ourselves; we can be as loud as we want."

Molly felt herself blush; Sherlock gave her a rather wolfish grin before hoisting her up into his arms and carrying her up the stairs. As soon as the bedroom door was closed Sherlock made quick work of removing Molly's jumper, bits of hay falling to the floor. She grabbed his hand and slipped it beneath the waistband of her trousers, pressing his fingers against her pants so that he could feel how wet she still was for him. He groaned into her mouth as he kissed her and she chuckled. Within seconds she was standing entirely naked before him.

"Someone is rather anxious!"

He was now starting on his own clothes, "I need you Molly! I want you again!"

She smiled at him as she helped him with his shirt and trousers, "I want you too. Always."

He stopped what he was doing and held her flush up against him as he kissed her deeply. He could feel her smiling against his mouth. He lessened the kiss slightly and continued to undress himself. As soon as he was entirely naked he eased her down onto the bed and began to lavish her body with open mouth kisses.

She was breathing loudly as he lapped at her breasts with his tongue, nibbling at the soft, pale flesh with his teeth. He suckled each of her nipples until they were both aching peaks. He brought his mouth back up to hers and kissed her hungrily.

"I wish I had known you when you were younger." She told him, as they parted for breath.

He nuzzled her nose with his, his fingers sliding up and over her hip bone, "You would have hated me."

She smiled, "Mmm … I think not. Would you have brought me here? Done this to me in your bed?"

He dropped his head down to nip at her clavicle with his teeth, "Possibly."

She brought her hands up to his curls, carding her fingers through them, "Hmmm … would you have done it while your parents were home, with the possibility of being caught, or waited until they were gone, like tonight?"

He picked his head back up and looked at her, "You're very talkative."

She gave his curls a tug, "Answer the question."

"I'd prefer them to be gone; I like it when you're noisy."

A loud moan escaped her throat as he ghosted his thumb across her clit.

"Don't hold back." He whispered to her, kissing the side of her neck before slipping down her body and positioning himself between her legs.

She cried out as he wrapped his lips around her clit, then moaned even louder than before as he slid his mouth down farther and delved his tongue into her wet center.

"Fuck!"

Her hands were in his curls once more, her fingernails digging slightly into his scalp. She was beginning to shudder around him as he fucked her with his tongue, circling her clit with his fingertips.

Another cry escaped her, this time his name, as her orgasm washed over her. He placed a kiss on each labium, then upon her mons pubis, and her navel before pulling himself completely upward so that he was hovering over her. He wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her breasts were rising and falling with each deep breath that she took. She smiled up at him before taking a hold of his face and tugging him down to her for a kiss.

"Can I return the favour?" She asked him.

He shook his head, "I want to be inside of you."

She nodded and he kissed her again. He took her right leg in his hand and lifted it so that it rested on top of his shoulder.

"All right?" He asked her.

She nodded again, breathlessly waiting to see how he exactly intended on taking her. He gave her another wolfish grin, teasing her now parted folds with the head of his cock. She mewled softly, but he wasn't ready to enter her just yet. He gently tugged her onto her side, so that they were both facing each other before he took her other leg and lifted it. Both of them were now resting on his shoulders, he shifted himself ever so lightly, his abdomen brushing against her clit.

Ever so slowly he eased himself into her, wanting to make sure that she was comfortable before he began to thrust. He watched her face as he fully seated his cock inside of her; she had tilted her head back and her lips were parted, her eyes closed.

"How does that feel?" He asked her softly.

"Oh Sherlock! It feels so good! So good! Please fuck me! I need you to fuck me Sherlock!"

That was all the assurance he needed. He slid out of her, his cock aching at the loss of her wet heat, before thrusting into her.

"Molly!" He groaned.

He forced himself to move slowly, wanting to drag out the sensation that this new position was giving them.

"Oh yes! Yes!" She continued to cry out as he filled her, "Kiss me." She whimpered.

He did so, bringing their bodies even closer. She moaned into his mouth, her hands dropping downwards to hold onto his arse as he started to thrust into her a bit quicker. He always lost some of his self-control as the build towards his orgasm grew closer.

"Oh! Oh! Fuck! I love how you feel inside of me Sherlock, Oh God, fuck!" She kissed him again, clinging to him as if her very life depended on it as he started to thrust harder into her now, his hips smacking against her, his pelvis pressing into her clit each time that he entered her.

As she dug her nails into his skin she came with a wild cry, he gave one more thrust and held himself inside of her, reveling in the sensation of her convulsing around him. He watched her, her face flushed, her breasts heaving, as the waves of her orgasm continued to wash over her. After a few more moments, he started to move once more, desperate for his own release. With a great shout he emptied himself into her.

She held tightly on to him, not wanting him to pull himself out of her just yet. She pressed kisses to his forehead, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, then his mouth. He brushed his fingertips across her cheek, looking into her eyes. No words were ever really needed at this time; they had spoken so much with their bodies. He kissed her gently, easing her onto her back so that she could lower her legs to the mattress without him having to yet slip his now-softened cock out of her.

Reaching out he grabbed at the duvet that had been shoved down earlier and pulled it up over them. She snuggled into him, their hands meeting, lacing their fingers together. They were now laying on their sides once more, her breasts pressed against his chest, her thigh resting atop of his hip.

They kissed quietly for a time, still basking in their afterglow. He had pulled their joined hands until they were resting against him, so that she could feel the elevated beating of his heart.

"I love you, so much Sherlock." She whispered to him, nuzzling at his bottom lip.

"Love you too."

It had been awhile since either one of them had spoken these words. They didn't need to; they both knew how the other felt. But still, it did feel rather nice to hear it.

* * *

><p>Molly and Sherlock stayed with his parents for three more days. The police needed them to give statements as well as all of the evidence they had gathered about the Rucastle's. After a short stay in hospital Jeremy was released and Violet was allowed to keep him in her care, and would eventually be applying for adoption papers. The gardener, the cook and the housekeeper had been brought in for questioning. They had all played a part in Mr. Rucastle's plan; helping him to keep his wife captive. The gardener was in fact no mere gardener, but was also a former soldier and had been acting as Mrs. Rucastle's keeper.<p>

When it was at last time for Molly and Sherlock to leave, Marian and Siger were sad to see them go.

"This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend away for the pair of you, but leave it to you, William to find a case!" Marian exclaimed, fighting back tears.

"I didn't find it Mummy, Miss Hunter came to me!"

Marian merely shook her head then gave Molly a warm hug, the pair of them had grown rather close over the time they had spent together. Sherlock even allowed her to hug him. Siger gave Molly a hug as well, and told her to make sure that Sherlock continued to take good care of her.

Marian released her son from her hold and stepped back from him with a fierce look in her eyes. When she spoke the words that she had been keeping at bay, Molly felt a bright blush cover her face.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you better make an honest woman of her!"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

***cackles***

**I'm evil to end it there, aren't I? :D**


	19. Make an Honest Woman of Her!

**Oh dear! What has Mummy Holmes gone and done now?! **

* * *

><p>Chapter Nineteen - Make an Honest Woman of Her!<p>

* * *

><p>"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you better make an honest woman of her!" Marian exclaimed.<p>

Molly was blushing so strongly she could feel her cheeks practically burning. She hurried toward the waiting taxi, not wanting to see what Sherlock's reaction was. Not only did she feel rather mortified, but she was also worried that Marian had over-stepped her boundaries and that she would now have to put up with a shut-down Sherlock the entire trip back to London.

Moments later he joined her in the back of the taxi. She forced herself to steal a quick glance at him. His face was relaxed, albeit contemplative. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if perhaps his mother had gotten him thinking. He _had _one time made a very faint reference to the fact that he was considering marrying her. Molly quickly shoved that thought away, feeling perfectly content with how their relationship was. She didn't need to be married to him.

His hand clasped around hers brought her rambling thoughts to a standstill. She dropped her gaze to their hands then back up to him. He smiled warmly at her.

"Sorry if what mummy said upset you. She does things like that."

Molly blinked at him, "It was just, slightly embarrassing. I know that that is how most mothers feel and all … I just didn't quite expect her to say it so abruptly."

He squeezed her hand slightly, "Are you against the idea?"

She had dropped her gaze again, "Aren't you?" She couldn't bring herself to answer his question.

"Molly … look at me, please."

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, his gaze was soft.

"I used to be completely against the thought of marriage. I thought it was a silly and ridiculous thing to do. But now, having been with you, sharing our time together, living together, I've become accustomed to the thought that perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible thing to do."

"Why?"

Her abrupt question surprised him.

She continued, "What difference would our being married bring to our relationship? That I have the same last name as you?"

He swallowed, "No-oo-oo. You could keep your last name if you wanted to. I don't think that it would change our relationship, exactly. We would still of course live together, spend our time together … make love in our bed together." As he spoke the last words he had dipped his head down and murmured them into her neck so that the driver didn't hear, "I rather like the idea of you being my wife. I want to be your husband."

Molly leaned back slightly so that he had no choice but to look at her, "Who are you, and what have you done with the real Sherlock Holmes?"

He huffed in annoyance, "Molly stop! I'm entirely serious. I mean every word that I'm saying."

She continued to eye him warily.

He threw his hands up, "Why is it that I can never convince you straight away that I'm speaking the truth?"

"Because you're you … I'm sorry … I still … I still sometimes think that you're only saying certain things to me to get what you want."

"Molly …" His tone was soft, pained. He pulled her to him, burying his face in her neck, taxi driver be damned, "Please stop thinking that! I don't! I don't! Not anymore. Oh God, Molly, I'm so sorry for all that I've done to you. Why _would_ you marry such a selfish arsehole?"

She held him close to her, murmuring softly to him, "It's all right Sherlock; I'm just being foolish that's all."

He turned his head, tucking himself against her chest, "No, you're not being foolish at all. I'm the fool, always have been, always will."

She placed a kiss upon his face, directly between his brows. His eyes met hers.

"I'm _not _asking you to marry me, not right now. But I might, someday. Don't give up on me, don't give up on us." He pleaded.

Molly let out a slow, shaky sigh, noting how much he sounded like a frightened child. She took his hand in hers and brought it up to her mouth, placing a kiss upon it.

"I won't. I never will."

* * *

><p>Two weeks passed and Christmas was closely approaching. Molly had insisted on them throwing a party and Sherlock had grumbled profusely about it, but when she declared that she wouldn't have sex with him for an entire month he quickly complied, albeit he still grumbled.<p>

The marriage discussion had not been broached again. Molly had in fact quite forgotten about it, Sherlock not so much. What he had said to her, in the taxi, had been entirely the truth. And he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Three days before the party Molly had completely out done herself. The flat was decorated with fairy lights, giving off a soft colourful glow. There was a small decorated tree in the corner, which Toby miraculously ignored, Sherlock not so much. When Molly had come home to him experimenting on the needles of the tree she gave him a good swat and told him that the tree was entirely off limits.

The entire day before the party was spent baking. She had taken over the kitchen, disinfecting it twice before she had even attempted to start making anything. Sherlock had gone up into John's old room to sulk for she had gone as far as removing his beloved microscope. It was safely tucked away in their bedroom, where he couldn't use it.

Molly was rather oblivious to Sherlock's current mood, far too focused on what she was doing. But when she had taken the Fairy Cakes out of the oven and had placed them on a tray to cool she came to realize that Sherlock was no longer in his chair where he had previously been sitting.

"Sherlock?" She called out.

No answer. She checked the bedroom, the bathroom, nothing.

"Sherlock?" She called out again, climbing the stairs.

She pushed open the door, only to find Sherlock curled up in a ball on John's old bed, his back to her. Biting down on her lip to suppress a laugh she padded over to him.

"Are you angry with me?"

A humph was the only answer she was given.

She got up on to the bed, his back still to her; she straddled his hip grinding herself against him slightly. A loud shriek erupted from her as he grabbed her, and she was suddenly underneath him.

"Are you upset because I put away your microscope?" She asked breathlessly.

"One of the reasons." He answered, dragging the tip of his nose along her jaw line.

"I only did that so that it wouldn't get covered in flour."

He lifted his head and looked down at her, "Suppose that was a wise decision." His eyes trailed over her body, she was covered almost head-to-foot in the dusty white powder, "You're a menace in the kitchen Molly."

"So are you … when you're doing an experiment."

He rolled his eyes.

"What's the other reason you're angry with me?"

He dropped his head down to mouth at her clavicle, "I was quite intent on making love to you this morning … but you were very determined to get an early start on your baking … a bit too determined." He nipped at her with his teeth.

She let out a mewl, "Ohhhh … that's why. That's … mmm … that's a very good reason."

His hands were on her breasts now, massaging them through the shirt she was wearing. Her own hands had dropped down to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. She slipped her hand beneath it and wrapped her fingers around his hardened length.

"Fuck." He groaned into her neck.

He made quick work of unbuttoning her trousers, pulling down the zip before shoving them down passed her waist. She gave his own pyjama bottoms a tug, allowing his cock to spring free. She took him in her hand again, guiding him to her.

They both let out a satisfied sigh as their bodies became connected. He rocked against her, kissing her deeply. Their movements quickly became fast and desperate. Within no time they were both crying out their release. She held him against her.

"Better now?" She whispered, nuzzling at his earlobe.

"Mmm … for the time being."

She gave the back of his head a light swat, "I need to get back to my baking."

He let out a disappointed moan as she gently pushed him off of her.

"Why not come and help me? The sooner I'm done … the sooner we can continue with … this …"

His eyes lit up. She shook her head as she fixed her trousers and shirt; the man was an absolute shag-a-holic. Not that she was exactly complaining. Before he could grab her, which she knew was entirely his attention; she jumped off the bed and flounced from the room.

A few minutes later he joined her in the kitchen. The pair of them worked side by side for several hours. Sherlock would never openly admit this, but he loved to bake. There was a science to it that he found fascinating. By the time they were finished they were both covered in flour, chocolate and red dye. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight of his dark curls dusted with the white powder.

"NO! DON'T!" She shrieked.

He had delved his hand into the bag of flour, and before she could duck he had thrown the entire contents in his grip directly at her.

"You twat!"

His only response was a loud laugh as she continued to splutter. She quickly had her revenge though. She dipped her hand into the bowl that was now sitting in the sink and gathered up what had been left behind. She smeared the chocolate across his face, dragging her hand down his neck.

"Oh dear … !" She spoke in a mocking tone.

He glared at her, but then grabbed up her chocolate covered hand and took each individual finger into his mouth, slowly sucking off the chocolate. By the time her hand was clean she was a panting mess. Determined to pay him in kind she stood on her tiptoes and dragged her tongue across his cheek, licking up the chocolate that she had smeared there, she then moved her mouth down to his neck, licking off the chocolate there.

"Shower?" He croaked out.

She chuckled into his skin, "All right."

He grabbed her about the waist and flung her over her shoulder. She let out a loud laugh as he carried her towards the bathroom. Once the door was shut behind them he pressed her against the counter and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth, running her fingers through his curls. Parting for breath they quickly undressed. She pulled him into the shower and turned on the water. As soon as both of their bodies were rid of the chocolate and flour, Sherlock pressed her up against the wall, the water cascading down his back.

Slipping both hands underneath her thighs, he spread her legs apart and lifted her up before lowering her down onto his aching cock. They both moaned loudly. She locked her legs about his waist, crossing her ankles, her arms around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly. He thrust up into her, pressing her into the cold wet tile. Her head was thrown back, the hard pebbles of her nipples pressing into his chest every time that he entered her. She was digging her nails into his shoulder, moaning incessantly. He kissed her, planting one hand on the shower wall, as he moved the other down over her breast, then her stomach before reaching where their bodies were joined to rub his fingertip over her clit. She cried out into his mouth and after a few more strokes of his finger her orgasm hit her. He dropped both hands down to her hips, holding onto her tightly as he began to thrust into her hard, her breasts bouncing wildly. With a great shout he emptied himself inside of her.

They held onto each other for several minutes, reveling in the high that their bodies had created together. Reaching out Molly turned the water to a warmer setting. Sherlock hissed slightly when the hot water hit his back. She massaged his shoulders, then dipped her hands downwards and grabbed at his arse. He yelped slightly and she giggled. He was still inside of her, and Molly was still pressed rather tightly against the wall. He shifted his hips slightly and she whimpered. Her body was always extremely sensitive to any sort of stimulation after an orgasm. He smiled wickedly as he slipped himself out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Damn you and your libido!" She all but growled.

He smiled again and grabbed her shampoo bottle and began to wash her hair. Once they were both cleaned they got out of the shower and dried off.

"The kitchen is an absolute mess!" She grumbled as she tugged on one of his dressing gowns.

"Later." He stated firmly, dragging her down onto the bed with him, "Nap now."

She snuggled up against him as he pulled the duvet over them. Within minutes the pair of them were fast asleep. It was nearly dark out when they both woke. In spite of the mess in the kitchen Molly managed to make each of them a cup of tea and heat up the left over take away from the day before. Sherlock was sat at the kitchen table, eyeing their handiwork.

"Don't even think about eating any of those Sherlock! They're for tomorrow." She had her back to him but she knew exactly what he was doing.

He grumbled and leaned back in his chair, knowing that nicking a cake would be futile. She would notice no matter what. She set his tea down in front of him and dished out the food. She then sat down beside him and tucked in; she was quite famished from their earlier activities.

"Should I wear my black dress tomorrow?" She asked him suddenly.

"NO." He answered her almost instantaneously.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows, "I thought you actually liked it?"

He looked at her, "I do. This is why I don't want you wearing it. Gavin doesn't need to ogle you again."

She chuckled softly.

"_Greg _knows we're together Sherlock. I don't think he would openly stare at another man's woman."

He snorted, "You're not wearing it."

She rolled her eyes, "You'll just want me out of it, won't you?"

"Yes."

"That's what you wanted that Christmas … when I first wore it … hmmm?"

He mumbled illegibly beneath his breath but the faint tinge of pink upon his cheeks said enough.

She smiled cheekily and cupped her hand underneath his chin to turn him towards her so that she could plant a kiss upon his mouth, "You're adorable when you're embarrassed."

* * *

><p>"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"<p>

Sherlock held back his sarcastic comment, as everyone greeted each other. In spite of the fact that he did not greatly enjoy parties he had to admit to himself that he didn't mind being surrounded by the people he considered to be the most important in his life: Mrs. Hudson, John, Mary, their off-spring Scarlett, Lestrade, and of course Molly. Molly who was currently sporting the most ridiculous Christmas jumper he had ever seen. He was certain that she was wearing it to spite him for his previous comments about her not wearing that entirely too-attractive black dress. In desperate need of a distraction before his trousers became a bit tight, he grabbed up his violin.

Molly leaned back into the sofa as Sherlock began to play 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas.' She smiled up at him, and he smiled down at her. Neither one of them was aware that Mrs. Hudson had seen the exchange and that she too was smiling herself.

The party was a success. Everyone enjoyed themselves, Sherlock and Molly's baking received copious amounts of compliments and Mrs. Hudson's punch guaranteed a happy time for all. Sherlock had carefully avoided drinking any of that.

By the time everyone had left it was late in the evening, and Molly was happily content. This was most definitely a far better Christmas than any she had celebrated in recent years. Sherlock watched her from the kitchen as she settled herself down onto the sofa. Almost absent-mindedly his hand moved to his pocket, fingering through the fabric the object he had placed there earlier in the day.

Molly was now dozing on the sofa. The fire had nearly died; the only light in the room was from the fairy lights, and the tree. Sherlock sat himself down beside her. She hummed happily and moved closer against his warmth.

"What are you doing?" She murmured to him sleepily, blinking at him with tired eyes, as he took her left hand in his and brushed the pad of his thumb across her naked finger.

He moved his other hand down into his pocket and took out the item he had been carrying around with him for some time now, "Making an honest woman of you." He stated firmly, slipping a ring slowly onto her finger.

Molly gasped as the coolness of the jewelry met her skin. Her eyes widened, no longer feeling tired. She glanced down at her hand, "Sherlock!" She breathed out; she continued to stare down at the ring.

It was delicate and beautiful, entirely different from the one Tom had given her. She silently cursed herself for even thinking of him at this moment, returning her thoughts to the ring on her finger. It was a bezel setting, with a small round diamond, perfectly sized for her hand. The diamond sparkled when it caught the light.

Sherlock waited, wanting her to speak first. She slowly raised her eyes, meeting his; there were no tears, only a faint hint of worry.

"Are you entirely certain that you want to do this?"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**Feel free to hate me, I know I'm cruel to end it there! Just call me Steven Moffat's twin! HA!**

**Also, the ring he gave her, the bezel setting is basically the type of engagement ring I'd want … if I ever get one :-P**


	20. Are you entirely certain?

**I must say, I rather love this chapter :)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty – Are you entirely certain that you want to do this?<p>

* * *

><p>"Are you entirely certain that you want to do this?" Molly's voice was tinged with apprehension, her eyes devoid of tears.<p>

Sherlock held back the huff that he would normally let out, and only nodded, "Yes." He cleared his throat before continuing, his voice softening, "I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one." He paused again, "I ask you to pass through life at my side-to be my second self, and best earthly companion … I know I don't deserve you and that you should be with a far better man than I could ever be-"

Molly clamped her ring-clad hand over his mouth, "All my heart is yours, sir. It belongs to you, and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever." She dropped her hand away from him and grabbed a hold of his shirt, pulling him down to her so that she could kiss him deeply.

She had caught him entirely off-guard. For a few moments he froze in her hold, then suddenly realized what had happened and he quickly began to kiss her back.

"So you will?" He asked hoarsely, after they had parted in order to catch their breath.

"Yes! I will! I will marry you!"

He pressed her down onto her back, into the cool leather of the sofa, as he kissed her again. She clung to him, running her fingers through his curls, entirely overwhelmed.

"Did you really just use several quotes from _Jane Eyre_, to propose to me?" She questioned against his lips, her tone a teasing one.

"Yes. I thought it would be appropriate. That you would like it. You did like it?"

She chuckled, "I did."

He kissed her again, deeply.

"I was worried that you wouldn't, that you may only associate the novel with that bastard Rucastle."

She shook her head, brushing her lips against his, "No. He didn't ruin it for me. I still love that book. And hearing you quote it … Mmmm!" She pressed her mouth to his, their tongues soon fighting for dominance.

When they parted for breath she giggled slightly and said, "You do realize how positively cliché you are being by proposing to me on Christmas Eve?" She brushed her nose up against his.

He growled slightly, "Hush Molly. At least I didn't ask you on that horrible Love Day."

"Love Day? Ohhh … you mean Valentine's Day. Yes, thank you for that."

He kissed her again.

"Sherlock …"

"Mmm?"

His hands had started to wander, already slipping underneath her jumper, to brush his fingers over her skin.

"Can we possibly move this to the bedroom?"

He chuckled, "Don't like the leather against your skin?"

"Not entirely."

He eased himself off of her and helped her to stand. They walked into the bedroom and Sherlock switched on the lamp before pulling her back to him and kissing her. He had had her back to the bed but she quickly spun them about and pushed him down onto the mattress. He smiled against her mouth, loving it when she became a bit more dominating.

She pulled off her jumper, breaking apart their kiss, as she straddled his waist. She rocked her hips against his, pushing up against his aching erection. He groaned loudly and she smiled down at him. She began to unbutton her shirt, but when he brought his own hands up to help her she pushed them away. He gave her a questioning look and she merely shook her head in answer.

He dropped his hands back down to the mattress and watched her finish unbuttoning the shirt and pull it off, tossing it to the floor. Another groan escaped him as he took note of her wearing her see-through black lace bra. His cock gave a prominent twitch. That bra did things to him that he could never possibly understand. She gave him a wicked grin as she reached behind her and unhooked it, slipping the fabric off and allowing it to join her shirt on the floor.

Leaning forward she shifted herself upwards then tilted her body so that her left breast dangled against his mouth. She brushed her nipple against his lips. He opened his mouth and she dipped her body further downwards. He suckled her breast, holding tightly onto her as she sighed softly. He nibbled the hardened peak. With a gentle tug she pulled herself away from him, and shifted her body once more so that he could take her other breast into his mouth. He cupped his hand around the other one, tenderly massaging it as he lapped and suckled at her nipple.

Her soft mewls were positively driving him wild. He wanted nothing more then to flip her onto her back and fuck her into the mattress. But he didn't, she had taken dominance tonight, and he was going to allow it. With a soft pop she pulled her breast away from his mouth. She smiled at him before shimmying her body down his and stepping away from the mattress.

He pushed himself up slightly to watch her. She kicked off her shoes and removed her socks before she undid the button and zip of her trousers and dropped them to the floor, revealing that she hadn't on any knickers. He was rather glad that he hadn't known this until now. She crawled back up onto the bed, keeping her naked body well away from his as she moved up over him once more.

"I think you should be naked as well, hmmm?"

He nodded and she quickly unbuttoned his shirt, once more pushing his hands away when he offered to help. He allowed himself to be distracted by the sight of her breasts, still faintly pink from his earlier attentions, dangling above him.

His shirt quickly joined hers on the floor. She undid his trousers and after he lifted up his hips she tugged them down, stopping when she came to his ankles. She untied his shoes, slipping them off before removing his socks. She then gave a final tug to his trousers and they too fell to the floor. He wasn't wearing any pants. His erection had sprung up, as soon as it was freed from its fabric barrier, and she had given it a satisfied stare.

She kissed her way up his legs, nipping at him with her teeth from time to time. When she came to his cock, she took the head in her mouth and dragged her tongue across it. He let out a low, satisfied sigh. She didn't take him any further into her mouth but instead released him. His eyes, which had fallen closed, flew open. He looked at her, watching as she once more straddled his hips.

With a soft cry she eased herself down onto him, sheathing him with her warmth and wetness. She rocked her hips slightly, but didn't fully move herself on him. She met his gaze and grabbed at his hands, bringing them up to her breasts. She placed his palm on each then dropped her own hands away. It was then that she lifted herself off of him.

They moaned in unison as she began to ride him. He squeezed her breasts, massaging the soft flesh with his fingers. She tilted herself back slightly, giving him a better view as he entered her wet core again and again.

"Oh! Oh!"

She continued to ride his cock, panting softly. He watched in amazement as she slipped her hand over her abdomen and then dipped it downwards, to rub at her perfectly exposed clit. She cried out as her fingers made contact. She stroked furiously at the hardened nub, quickening her pace on him. With her other hand she reached up and grabbed his, lacing their fingers together and pressing their joined hands to her breast. The light of the lamp caught the diamond on her finger and it glistened.

With a few more strokes of her clit she came around him hard, screaming out his name. She dropped down on him and that was enough, his orgasm took over. He pressed his hips up into hers, squeezing her hand tightly. She dropped forward, shaking.

He pushed himself up; cradling her in his arms before easing them back down onto the mattress. After wrapping the duvet around them he curled into her, placing a kiss onto her ring-clad finger.

"My wife." He murmured to her.

Her eyes had fallen closed, he watched her as a smile appeared on her face, "Mmmm … not quite … you haven't married me _yet._"

"Shhh…" He silenced her with a kiss.

She chuckled into his mouth, pulling him close up against her, "Happy Christmas you git." She said against his lips.

He leaned back and looked at her with mock-appall, "Name calling? At a time like this?"

She giggled as she pulled him back down to her for another kiss, "Yes."

He grumbled in annoyance but quickly kissed her back.

A little while later they made love again, slowly. Taking the time to kiss and touch each others bodies, as if they were discovering each other for the first time. Now that they were both fully sated once more, they lay curled around each other with their hands joined; he was admiring the ring on her finger, brushing his thumb over it.

"Are you happy?" He asked her quietly, tilting his head to the side so that he could brush his lips against her temple.

"Yes." She answered sleepily, her eyes falling closed.

He kissed her temple again, before switching off the lamp then wrapping his arms around her. She sighed happily into his chest as she snuggled into him.

"John is in for quite a surprise, isn't he?" She asked.

Sherlock chuckled, "Mmm, I suppose."

"Don't worry Sherlock; he won't think that you're taking advantage of me. He knows better now. No more Human Error."

His hold on her tightened slightly.

"Sorry." Her voice became muffled as she buried her face into his chest.

He sighed, "Don't apologize. He has every right to be concerned, knowing my track record."

She propped up her chin so that their eyes could meet, "But doesn't he realize how much we mean to each other? He won't doubt you Sherlock, not this time."

He brought his hand up to brush her hair back from her face, "I certainly hope so."

"Well, if he does I'll just punch him the jaw."

Sherlock chuckled, "That would be a sight."

Molly sniffed then laid her head back down. Silence fell for several minutes. He had thought she had fallen asleep when suddenly her voice broke through the stillness.

"You do realize that your mother will want to us to have a big wedding?"

Sherlock let out an exasperated groan at the thought. Molly let out a soft chuckle and rolled onto her back before pulling him up against her, silencing his noises of annoyance with a kiss. He nuzzled his face between the hollow of her breasts, as she brought her hands up to his curls, gently massaging his scalp. They slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Molly was the first to awaken. Sherlock was curled up around her, his arm draped protectively about her waist, snoring softly into her hair. She held up her hand, the diamond glittering in the early morning light. She couldn't keep a smile from coming to her face.

Sherlock stirred, murmuring something against her neck that possibly may have been a "Morning," but Molly wasn't entirely certain. She dropped her hand back down to the mattress and turned her head so that she could place a kiss upon the tip of his nose. His eyes slowly fluttered open, he blinked sleepily at her, and she smiled at him

"Hello … future husband."

He let out a snort, "Hello … future Mrs. Holmes." He pulled her closer up against him, pressing his semi-hard cock against the curve of her bottom.

Molly let out quiet moan, then gently pushed him away, "Wait … I have something for you!" She let out a giggle as she slipped out of his grasp and out from under the sheets.

Sherlock dropped his head back down to the pillow and muttered unhappily into the fabric as she padded from the room. He didn't lift his head back up until he heard her return. She was holding a brightly wrapped package.

"Molly … we agreed that we weren't doing presents!" He let out an indignant sniff.

She got back up on the bed, "I know … this really isn't exactly a gift, more so a silly joke. Open it." She held the package out to him.

Continuing to grumble he sat up and took it from her and proceeded to rip apart the paper, when he saw what the gift was he fell back into the pillows, laughing. Molly joined in with his laughter then let out a slight shriek when he pulled her to him for a kiss.

"Happy Christmas Sherlock." She murmured against his lips.

He smiled, "Happy Christmas Molly … thank you for the … jars of face mask."

She giggled, "You're welcome. I thought it would be rather appropriate."

He kissed her again, blindly placing the box containing the jars onto the nightstand before rolling her over onto her back. She moaned happily into his mouth as he nestled his body between her legs.

"What deems it as an appropriate gift?" He questioned, easing himself into her.

Molly let out a slight hiss before replying, hooking both of her legs over his arse, "That … mmmm … that it is part of the reason we got together! Oh!"

Sherlock hummed for a moment, moving his cock in and out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace, "I see … yes, I would have to agree with that. Although … even without the face mask, I don't think I would have left your flat that night without having told you how I felt."

She brought her hands up to his face, cradling it, their eyes meeting as he stilled his movements, "Really?"

He nodded before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, "Yes, that was why I came to your flat, although I must admit I didn't exactly expect it to go as well as it did. I hoped that it would … but I also feared that perhaps I had (as I've always done) asked too much of you … and that you no longer loved me."

Molly pulled him down to her for a searing kiss, when they pulled apart he began to move his cock in and out of her again, no longer able to hold himself still inside of her.

"Cleary I thought wrong … I do tend to always miss something." He had dropped his head down, suckling at her neck between speaking.

She held on to him tightly, lifting her hips up to meet his, "Yes! And I am so glad that you did. I've wanted to be with you for so long Sherlock! I've never given up on you, I never have, and I never will."

Sherlock grabbed onto her ring-clad hand, lacing their fingers together before pressing their joined hands down into the mattress before kissing her deeply. Molly mewled softly against his lips as he began to enter her harder. She came moments later, moaning out his name and how much she loved him. After several more thrusts he came as well, groaning her name into her shoulder.

"Love you too." He panted into her skin.

* * *

><p>New Year's Eve came and went without much of a hit. Sherlock had been called in on a case, a missing bride. He didn't come home until the following morning. Molly had considered going to Mary and John's party (although John had gone out with Sherlock to help find the missing woman), but decided not to. Instead she sat alone with a bottle of wine and several seasons of Doctor Who. It wasn't much, but she didn't entirely mind. It was probably better that she hadn't gone to the party, for she didn't even make it to midnight.<p>

When she awoke the next morning she was surprised to find herself in bed. She could have sworn that she had fallen asleep on the sofa. She yawned as she sat up, scratching her head as she blinked away the sleep. She could hear the shower going. Quickly slipping out from under the sheets she removed her clothes and made her way into the steam-filled bathroom.

"Care for some company?" She asked Sherlock.

He had had his back to her, giving her an eyeful of his bare, wet arse. He spun about at the sound of her voice. With a smile he held his hand out to her. She stepped under the stream of water and wrapped her arms about his middle.

"Find the bride?" She asked him, turning her face away from the water.

"Yes. Turns out her fiancée was only marrying her so that he would gain access to her money. Her family had been suspicious about him from the beginning, they warned her actually, but she ignored them. She ended up discovering the truth though, and he threatened to kill her if she tried to stop the wedding."

"Poor woman."

"Mmm …"

They both fell silent, standing beneath the fall of water.

Molly turned her head slightly to look up at him, "I suppose it's a good thing then, that I don't have any money or family? Eh?"

Sherlock peered down at her, "It probably is I'm sure they would try to convince you that marrying me would be a terrible idea."

"Sherlock … please stop thinking like that! Even if anyone did try to convince me, I wouldn't listen to them. I know the real you, and I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks." She snuggled her head back into his chest.

His hold on her tightened, and he placed a kiss upon the crown of her head.

"Did you tell John, about our engagement?" She inquired.

"Ye-es."

Molly took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out, "Please don't tell me you let him know during an adrenaline fueled moment."

"I wouldn't exactly say it was adrenaline fueled."

"SHERLOCK!"

"It just sort of spilled out of me."

Molly shook her head, "What was his reaction?"

"He gaped at me like a fish."

She sighed, "Did he believe you?"

"Surprisingly … yes."

She shifted her head so that her chin was propped on Sherlock's chest so that she could peer up at him, "Good."

He smiled before dipping his head down to kiss her. He slipped his hands from her back to her arse, gripping onto it tightly. She squealed into his mouth, feeling him smile against her lips.

"I think we should invite John and Mary over for dinner." She panted, pulling her head back slightly.

"Whatever for?"

She rolled her eyes, "To celebrate! They'll want to celebrate our engagement!"

Sherlock huffed, "Stupid traditions." He muttered, "John did mention something about a dinner."

She smiled up at him, "It's not a stupid tradition. It's a nice thing to do, to celebrate the fact that we're deciding to spend the rest of our lives together."

"Yes but does it exactly bode anything towards our future endeavor? No."

She rolled her eyes again, "Well … no matter what you think of it, it's going to happen whether you like it or not! We are going to have dinner with the Watson's!"

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**Happy now, guys?! :D**

**Dinner with the Watsons! This should be fun ;) **

**These are the quotes from Jane Eyre that I used: **

**Rochester to Jane: "****I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one." - and - "****I ask you to pass through life at my side-to be my second self, and best earthly companion."**

**Jane to Rochester: "****All my heart is yours, sir. It belongs to you, and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever."**

**Ahhh … happy sigh! :D**


	21. Dinner with the Watson's!

**I have at last returned! And I just want to say that I love ALL of you guys! The comments, kudos etc that you all leave me make me so happy and makes me want to continue writing! Thank you all so much! **

**I was literally snorting with laughter when I was writing a particular scene in this chapter ;)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty-One – Dinner with the Watson's!<p>

* * *

><p>We are going to have dinner with the Watson's!" Molly stated firmly as the water from the shower head continued to cascade down their bodies.<p>

Sherlock continued to grumble, stepping away from her hold and grabbing at the shampoo bottle. She watched him as he washed his hair, stepping closer to him and bringing up her hands to join his. He let out a soft sigh, his eyes closing and his hands dropping down to his sides to allow her to massage his scalp. He always loved it when she washed his hair. When she was done she gave him a gentle tug towards the stream of water. He ducked underneath it and rinsed out the soap. He then shook his head, a bit like a dog caught in the rain, and Molly let out a little shriek as he pelted her with water droplets.

He opened his eyes and smiled down at her before dropping his head down towards her and capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She sighed into his mouth, pressing her wet body against his, feeling his erection quivering against her belly. Reaching out blindly, she grabbed at the soap and lathered it up in her hands. They parted for air and she began to soap up his body, purposely avoiding his twitching cock. Once his entire body was covered in suds she slipped her hands down to his erection and wrapped her fingers around him, cupping his bollocks in the other hand. He tilted his head back, groaning. She loved it when he looked like this, so completely in her control. She gave his bollocks a tender squeeze and pumped her hand up and down his cock, the soap acting as a lubricant.

"Molly." His voice was rough.

"Mmm?"

"Don't. I don't want to in here. Please stop." He panted.

She dropped her hands away and stepped back. He let out a shuddering sigh and stepped underneath the stream of water ridding his body of the soapy suds. Once he was finished he reached out for her and pulled her under the water, kissing her deeply once more.

"Bedroom?"

She nodded her head, "I have a surprise for you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Dry yourself off, put some clothes on and wait upon the bed. I'll be in there in a tic."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I need to be clothed?"

"Yes, I think it might work better that way."

Before he could say anything else she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel before disappearing from the bathroom. He blinked at the place where she had just been standing, then did as she asked.

Ten minutes later, he was waiting sprawled across the bed, in a white shirt and trousers. He hadn't known where she had gone, but when he heard the floor above creak, he realized she must be up in John's old room. When he heard her coming down the stairs he propped himself up on his elbow, curious to know what Molly had planned. She stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

He hadn't expected this.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes widening. Molly was wearing a pirate wench costume. Most certainly not a very historically accurate pirate wench costume, but he had to admit, and his cock most certainly agreed, it was quite an attractive get-up.

She gave him a little twirl, taking note of his admiring gaze, "You like?"

He swallowed thickly, and simply nodded, not entirely sure if he could form words. His brain seemed to have malfunctioned from the moment she walked into the room.

She gave a little giggle, her cheeks turning a faint pink as she climbed onto the bed and straddled him, "I told you I'd do this. Surprise!"

He chuckled, moving his hands over the fabric (polyester, awful!), "Yes, you did, didn't you? Thank you for doing well on your promise."

She leaned forward, giving him a good view of her cleavage, "Shall I wank your plank?" Molly's face became a bright crimson as she doubled over in laughter, "I'm sorry that was entirely awful!" She cleared her throat, swallowing the rest of her laughter, "I'm ready for ye to shiver me timbers Captain Holmes!" She fought back another laugh, "Are you prepared to be boarded? I want to see ye cockswain!" She doubled over again with laughter, no longer able to hold it in, nearly falling over onto the mattress.

Sherlock gave a weary sigh and grabbed her about the waist and switched their positions so that she was now the one on her back. She continued to giggle, looking up at him.

"You're positively awful at this Molly."

"Sorry … I did try."

Another giggle.

"Perhaps I should just silence you." He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers.

Eventually the kiss grew more passionate. She squeezed at his hips with her thighs, thrusting her pelvis upwards to rub against his erection; her arousal dampening the front of his trousers.

"God Molly," Sherlock groaned, "The sight of you dressed like this is doing things to me."

"Shall I keep it on then?"

He kissed her again then hummed against her lips as she pressed herself up against him once more.

"Mmmm, yes, just with one minor adjustment." He stated as he took a hold of the fabric on her shoulders and nudged it downwards. He continued to do so until the fabric was pulled down far enough so that her breasts could spring free. Her nipples were rosy pink, and hardened with arousal, "That's better."

He dropped his head down and took one pink nipple between his lips while he kneaded the other with his hand. He lapped at the soft underside of each breast before rearing back onto his haunches. Her eyes which had dropped closed due to his ministrations opened and peered up at him. He was removing his shirt, quickly tossing it to the floor before undoing his trousers and slipping them off. Now naked he moved back over her and gave each breast a gentle kiss before bringing his mouth back to hers and kissing her deeply. She hummed happily into the kiss.

He slipped his hands underneath the fabric of the costume, hitching it up passed her hips before sliding one hand down across her abdomen and dipping it between her soaked folds.

"Ooohhh!"

He toyed with her clit, circling around it with his fingertip but not touching it. He did the same with her wet center that was aching to be filled by him.

"Please!" She whimpered, her eyes having fallen closed once again.

He gave his length a few strokes with his fingers that were coated in her juices before taking himself entirely in hand and leveling his tip with her entrance. She had lifted up her legs and wrapped them around his hips, her ankles locking at the small of his back. She opened her eyes and peered up at him, her gaze filled with both lust and love.

He slid into her, thrusting shallowly, barely giving her his full length. She groaned in frustration, clawing at his back with her nails, trying to lift up her hips to reach him. He placed one hand onto her hip, pressing her down into the mattress.

"Please! I need all of you! Fill me up Sherlock! Fill me up entirely!"

He continued to tease her, just letting the tip of him rest inside of her, barely giving either one of them the pleasure they desired.

"Stop teasing me dammit!" She cried out.

He chuckled into her mouth as he kissed her again. She whimpered against his lips then cried out in triumph as he at last gave a full, solid thrust.

"Yes! Oh yes!"

He was fully inside of her now, and had settled himself directly into a rhythm of fervent, deep thrusts. He watched in fascination as her breasts bounced, the fabric of her costume shifting each time that he entered her, it brushing against his abdomen.

Suddenly he moved back until he was resting on his knees, nearly sitting, pulling her with him so that they stayed connected. He hooked both of his arms underneath her legs, lifting her arse up off the mattress, her legs coming to rest on his shoulders. The angle that he entered her was entirely different now. She cried out as he started to thrust into her harder. She clawed at the sheets.

Pushing the striped fabric of her costume further up her stomach, he looked down and watched his cock slide in and out of her wet core. He groaned at the sight, then brought his hand downward and began to stroke her clit. She came with a loud moan. He gave her now-tender clit a few more strokes, then moved both of his hands to her hips and began to thrust up into her as hard as he could.

She was moaning again, always so sensitive after she came. He was intent on having her orgasm a second time, joining him in the release.

"Oh God Sherlock!"

He leaned back slightly, changing the angle again.

"FUCK!"

Knowing that that was a sure sign that she was nearing another orgasm he brought his hand back to her clit.

"Fuck! Sherlock! Oh God!"

He couldn't hold on much longer, she was so wet, so tight around him.

"Are you close?" He panted out.

"Yes!"

He was feverishly working at her clit and she was fisting the sheets, her head thrown back, her hips pressing up towards his. With one final thrust he came, and she with him. Their moans filled the room.

Their bodies stilled and after a few moments he eased her down onto the bed, gently lowering her legs before slipping himself out of her. She was panting heavily and so was he. He dropped wearily down beside her.

"Take – take it off!" She was pulling at the costume, "It's hot, and scratchy."

He pushed himself up and helped her to undo it before pulling it up over her head and tossing it to the floor. She let out a satisfied sigh as she lay back down, the cool air of the room caressing her bare skin. He gazed down at her flushed body, loving the sight of her like this, knowing that he was the cause of it.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling impishly, "Did you enjoy that?"

He nodded, still a bit too breathless for words. He leaned down over her and kissed her. She hooked her arm about his neck and curled her body into his.

"Avast ye matey's, yo ho!" She murmured against his lips.

He smiled, shaking his head before he shifted himself so that their bodies were directly pressed together, still slick with sweat. He blindly reached out for the sheet to cover them. She tucked herself under his chin and let out a slow contented sigh.

* * *

><p>Several days later the dinner invitation had been issued to the Watson's and they gladly and excitedly accepted. Molly had swapped shifts with another pathologist so that she could have enough time to cook the meal. Mary had offered her help but Molly had insisted that she wanted to do it all herself. Sherlock would have (after a bit of persuasion) helped her as well, but he had gotten a case (conveniently?), leaving Molly alone to take care of everything herself. She didn't actually mind though, she enjoyed having the flat quiet and empty, and even though she did tend to only enjoy cooking when she was upset or worried about something she didn't feel the need for that now.<p>

It was pleasant for her to have the flat fill with the smell of the roast cooking in the oven while she chopped up the vegetables that she would be steaming. Once she was done with these she started to gather up the ingredients she needed for the Yorkshire puddings she would be making to accompany the roast.

Sherlock came home just as she was taking out the roast to check it. He was undoing his scarf as he walked into the kitchen and the sight of her bending over, stopped him in the doorway. Molly was rather oblivious to his presence, until she heard him clearing his throat.

"Sherlock, are you ogling my arse?" She looked at him over her shoulder, flashing him a wicked smile.

He pulled off his scarf then shrugged out of his Belstaff as she straightened and closed the oven door. After flinging both his coat and scarf over the back of one of the kitchen chairs he walked over to her.

"I'm surprised you're back already!" She said to him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "The case was a trivial three, an absolute bore. I had it solved within seconds. The Yard are getting worse with their inability to handle the simplest of cases."

Molly laughed slightly, "That's why they are so fortunate to have you help them!"

He grumbled slightly, but she was certain she caught a faint hint of a smile about the corners of his mouth. He had placed his arms about her waist and was peering over her shoulder at her handiwork.

"Whatever you are making smells fantastic!"

"Glad to hear it. I hope it tastes as good as it smells, I've only made a roast one other time before, but I'm quite confident it will be delicious." Molly had brought her hands up to the back of Sherlock's neck as she spoke and was moving her fingertips through the hair at his nape.

"Are you quite finished?"

Molly leaned back slightly so she could look up at him, "What, with cooking? For now yes. I've turned the oven off, the roast is done. I can't do anything else until shortly before Mary and John arrive; which isn't for over an hour from now, why?"

A certain look came into Sherlock's eyes, a look that Molly knew far too well. Within a matter of seconds Sherlock had lifted her up and placed her on top of the counter before cradling the back of her head in his hand and kissing her deeply.

"Right here? With all of this … around?" Molly questioned against his lips.

He simply nodded, breathing heavily from their kiss, and shoved a few things out of the way before beginning to undo her trousers. Molly giggled, surprised by his desperation.

"I thought it was only after when you have a big case (a nine at least!), that you want me this badly."

He kissed her again before answering, "I always want you Molly, sometimes I am just better at holding myself back … right now … not so much."

She laughed again as she dropped her hands down to his trousers, unhooking the button and pulling down the zip before using her feet to tug the fabric down so that it pooled at his ankles. His erection fell hard and heavy into her open palm. He groaned slightly, leaning forward into her as she gave his cock several long strokes.

He swatted her hand away making her laugh grow stronger. He silenced her with another kiss, lifting her up with one hand so that with the other he could tug her trousers and knickers down. Her naked bum gave a soft smacking sound as it made contact with the counter when he dropped her back down.

"Sherlock!" She whimpered, her forehead coming to rest against his.

He had grabbed her about the waist pulling her to the edge of the counter, her legs were spread, her knees on either side of his hips. The height of the counter was a perfect advantage, placing her directly at his level. He parted her folds with his thumbs and slid his length into her.

She kissed him, moaning into his mouth as he began to slowly move in and out of her. He held tightly onto her hips, holding her in place as he entered her again and again, her hands moving down to cup his arse.

He began to gradually pick up speed, the kitchen filling with the sounds of skin meeting skin and their combined moans. She leaned her head back against the cabinet door as he suckled at the base of her throat whilst bringing up his hand to cup and massage her breast through her t-shirt and bra.

"Harder! Please!" She pleaded.

Dropping his hand away from her breast he slipped both of his hands beneath her, cupping her bum and pulling her slightly closer as he began to practically pound himself into her.

"YES!"

She had locked her legs around him, arching her back as her orgasm washed over her; it only took him three more thrusts to join her. He leaned against her; she cradled his head in her hands as they both desperately fought to catch their breath. They kissed as she unlocked her ankles, letting her legs fall down to his sides.

"Shower." She murmured.

He nodded and scooped her up in his arms, toeing off his shoes prior to kicking away his trousers before carrying her towards the bathroom. If she had seen them from another angle she would have laughed at the sight of him in his socks and only a shirt and his suit jacket.

They spent the majority of the time beneath the warmth of the water standing in each others arms and reveling in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He continuously placed kisses upon her face, always returning to her lips before starting over again, making her laugh.

"We really should get cleaned up Sherlock! John and Mary will be here soon!"

A few minutes later they surfaced from the steam-filled bathroom. Once they were both dressed Molly returned to the kitchen and put the oven back on and proceeded to disinfect the countertop. She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks at the thought that she would never be able to look at that particular part of the kitchen the same ever again.

"Sherlock! Set the table please! And do it properly. I know you know how."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Of course I know how! I had to learn it for a case once, never deleted it."

Molly just shook her head and continued to prepare the Yorkshire puddings for the oven. She was just putting them in when the doorbell rang.

"Doesn't John have a key?" She called out to Sherlock as he made his way to open the door.

She could hear their voices as they came up the stairs. With a final glance at the vegetables, she stepped from the kitchen to greet John and Mary. Mary all but squealed when she saw Molly and rushed over to her to pull her into a hug.

"Congratulations!" Mary exclaimed.

Molly could all but feel Sherlock rolling his eyes, "Thank you Mary!" She hugged her back.

"Let me see the ring!"

Molly held out her hand.

"Oh my God, it's gorgeous! Absolutely beautiful! Sherlock definitely has excellent taste."

"Of course I do." He drawled, "I was able to deduce exactly what she wanted, it was quite simple really."

John still had Emily in his arms when he grabbed his friend and steered him away from the two women as they walked into the kitchen.

"I brought that wine you had tried at our house a few weeks ago; since you said you liked it." Mary told her as she held up the bottle.

"Oh thank you! That's lovely."

"Shall I open it?"

"Of course, the glasses should be on the table."

Mary returned with the glasses a few moments later, "Did Sherlock set the table?"

Molly was stirring the vegetables, "Yes."

"It looks like the bloody Ritz!"

Molly laughed, "Yes well, he said that he had to learn how to properly set a table for a case once …"

"That explains it." Mary chuckled as she poured the wine into the glasses, "The man will delete facts about the solar system but he'll keep how to properly set a table. He has his priorities straight!"

Molly laughed again, spooning out the vegetables into a bowl.

"Speaking of priorities … so you two engaged … how does that make you feel?" Mary was leaning against the counter, taking sips of wine.

Molly took up a glass and took a generous sip before answering her, "It makes me feel fantastic. I've never been happier! I … I think I could have been happy with Tom … content … but I know that there would always have been this feeling that something was missing. With Sherlock … I don't feel that. It feels right."

Mary smiled, "Well … I always hoped that Sherlock would pull his head out of his arse and accept the fact that he loved you, and I am so glad that he finally did! If he hadn't I may have been tempted to shoot him again!"

"Mary!" Molly gave her friend's shoulder a little shove, "That's an awful thing to say. Shooting him wouldn't have solved the problem!"

"Perhaps not … but he would have had a morphine drip, and he may just have been able to let his barriers drop."

Molly took another sip of wine before saying, "Well, it turns out that he didn't need morphine or any other type of drug to be able to tell me that he loved me."  
>Mary's smile widened, "And I am very happy about that."<p>

John's voice suddenly broke through their conversation as he called out from the other room, "Mary! I think Emily needs to be changed!"

She let out a weary sigh, "I'm on diaper duty tonight." She set down her glass and walked out of the kitchen.

Molly stayed behind to check on the Yorkshire puddings. When she closed the oven door she was surprised to find John standing beside her.

"Did Sherlock disappear into his Mind Palace?" Molly questioned.

"Actually no … I just wanted to talk to you, that's all."

Molly set down the oven mitts and turned to face him fully, "Do you think I'm making a mistake, in marrying him?"

John's eyes widened at her blunt question, "No! I honestly don't. I'm happy for both of you. I admit I was a bit shell-shocked when Sherlock first told me, albeit that could possibly be because of when he chose to tell me, the bloody bastard."

Molly giggled softly, "Yes … he did mention that it was during a somewhat adrenaline fueled moment …"

"Yes. We were chasing after the fiancée … and Sherlock just went and blurted out 'I suppose this is an excellent time to tell you that Molly and I are getting married.'"

Molly hid her face in her hands, "He didn't! Oh bloody hell!"

John placed his hand on his arm, "Looking beyond that though, I am very happy for both of you. Sherlock needs you, he's always needed you … and I think you need him too."

Molly dropped her hands away from her face and nodded, "I do. I really do. I don't know what I'd do without him. Life would be such a bore!"

John gave her a smile then pulled her into a hug, "Take care of him, I know you will … you always do, but make sure he takes care of you too!"

Molly nodded again, "He does. Don't worry."

"Why are you hugging my future wife?"

The pair of them separated at the sound of Sherlock's voice.

"Jealous?" Molly teased, grabbing up her wine glass and taking a generous sip.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her as John quickly ducked out of the kitchen.

"You'll be paying for that later."

"Will I?" Molly batted her eyes at him before flouncing from the kitchen to join Mary on the sofa, holding a freshly changed Emily.

"How is the offspring?" Sherlock drawled as he sat in his chair.

Molly sent a glare towards him as she took the little girl in her arms.

John gave him a weary look before saying, "Her name is Emily; I know you didn't delete that, her being your goddaughter and all."

Sherlock gave a noncommittal shrug. Everyone knew deep down that he positively adored her; even though Mary and John wouldn't allow him to experiment on her.

"She is doing extremely well; she's grown considerably over the passed month." Mary told him.

"She does seem longer since I saw her on Christmas!" Molly noted as she held Emily up, her little feet coming to rest on her knees, "Yes, you have grown! Haven't you, you beautiful girl!" She cooed to her, Emily gave her a huge gummy smile.

Once she had been fed and settled down to sleep, the adults sat down to eat. The conversation flowed easily. Perhaps it was because of the fact that they were already on their second bottle of wine, or perhaps it was because they were all very good friends, and they were in a celebratory mood.

Molly was rather shocked to see Sherlock drinking. It was quite possibly the most at ease she had ever seen him, except for when they were alone. John had just finished telling a rather raunchy joke and all four of them were laughing. As the laughter died off a bit Molly went to take another bite of her roast when suddenly she felt a strange ache in the pit of her stomach.

She laid down her fork and focused on taking several deep breaths as a wave of nausea flowed over her. John was the first to notice her discomfort, Sherlock was a bit too busy swirling his wine about in his glass.

"Molly, are you all right?" John leaned forward, concerned.

"You're very pale." Mary noted.

Suddenly the nausea grew in intensity, just as Sherlock looked up and quickly set down his glass.

"Molly?"

She bolted from the table and ran to the bathroom slamming the door shut behind her, reaching the toilet just as the nausea hit the precipice of her throat. As she emptied the contents of her stomach she heard the door open and someone enter.

"Sherlock please don't come in here, you don't need to see me like this!" Her voice was weak, tiny, as she curled up into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest.

She felt his warmth as he settled down beside her, "Molly, if we intend on marrying, spending the rest of our lives together, there are bound to be moments like this. Its human nature, we get sick, we sweat, we smell ... we just have to accept it and deal with it."

In spite of her aching belly Molly uncurled herself slightly, just enough to peer up at him, "That is the most un-Sherlock like thing I have ever heard you say."

He gave a shrug, "Hence the reason I don't often drink."

Molly let out a snort then moaned as she leaned forward towards the toilet.

She felt Sherlock put his arm about her, "You'll have to get used to feeling like this Molly ... at least for the next six weeks."

Once she had stopped retching she leaned back, taking the towel that Sherlock offered her.

She turned and looked at him, "What the hell are you on about?"

"You're pregnant Molly."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**DUN! DUN! DUN!**

**I know, I'm truly awful aren't I! **

**Soooo … is she? Or isn't she?! *wiggles eyebrows* **

**Have you ever felt perfectly fine and then just out of nowhere a stomach virus has just hit you? I have, and it's not fun!**

**Oh yeah and there's the counter sex that Mycroft was so rude to interrupt at the end of Chapter Nine … heh … ;)**

**And the whole pirate talk was what had me snorting with laughter … 'wank your plank' HAHAHAHA!**

**Be sure to let me know what you think! :D**


	22. You're Pregnant, Molly

**Soooooo …. Is she? Or isn't she? ;) **

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty-Two – You're Pregnant Molly<p>

* * *

><p>"You're pregnant, Molly. It's perfectly obvious." Sherlock deadpanned.<p>

She dropped the towel to her lap, and turned so that she was fully facing him, "That's not possible, I'm on the pill."

"Which has an eight percent failure rate."

"Sherlock, I'm not bloody pregnant! I stopped menstruating just a couple of days ago!"

"Some women continue to do so while pregnant."

"Sherlock you're drunk, hence the reason for your absolutely ridiculous deduction! Do not drink and deduce. I am NOT pregnant. Just because I am throwing up does not mean I am pregnant! I want to talk to John; I need a voice of reason!"

She moved to stand up but was rather unsteady, Sherlock caught her and helped her to rise.

"I'm not drunk." He stated indignantly.

She snorted again, "You're not yourself that's for sure! Get John, please."

He let out a huff but did as she asked. She placed her hand flat on the counter, steadying herself. When John entered the bathroom she gave one look at Sherlock and he walked back out; most certainly to go and sit in his chair and pout. Molly could faintly hear Mary ask him if everything was all right.

"Are you feeling ok?" John asked her as he moved closer.

She gave a slight shrug, "I have a horrible stomach ache, but I no longer feel nauseas. John ... Sherlock thinks I'm pregnant." She shook her head, "I don't think that's possible. I haven't felt sick until tonight, I haven't gained any weight, nor have I had an increase in appetite ... there's nothing that points in that direction! Couldn't this just be some kind of virus?"

John looked her over for a moment, "Has there been anything going around at Bart's? Any illness?"

Molly thought for a moment, "Two of the interns called out sick earlier this week. I don't know why though."

John nodded then reached up to feel her forehead, "You're quite warm. Do you have a thermometer?"

Molly scrunched up her nose, "Not one that I'd want to stick in my mouth."

John suppressed a shudder, not wanting to know what sort of hare-brained experiment Sherlock must have used it for, "Well I'd say that you definitely have a fever. You know your body better than anyone else; I think it's safe to say that you are not pregnant. But if you want to be one-hundred percent certain, then take a pregnancy test."

Molly let out a relieved sigh, "Oh thank God!"

John looked at her a bit surprised.

"Don't get me wrong," she stated quickly, "I do want children, eventually, it's just that ... ahh ... Sherlock and I haven't exactly had that conversation as of yet. And I'd really prefer to do so before I actually do become pregnant. I'm rather surprised his mother never made any sort of comment about wanting grandchildren while we were there. But talking about it with him beforehand would be much more convenient than while I am already pregnant. "

John gave her arm a comforting pat, "Yes, I understand that. I really think you have nothing to worry about right now. Just get some rest, drink fluids."

Molly groaned, "Oh God! I've gone and ruined this whole dinner! I'm so sorry!"

John couldn't help but laugh, "Molly it's all right, we can't control when things like this happen. Come on, you should go and lie down. Mary and I will do the washing up, you and I both know that Sherlock won't help with that."

Molly gave John a weak smile as he led her out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom, "Sherlock has actually become a bit better with cleaning up after himself."

"Good lord, you've domesticated the man! You definitely are good for him!"

Molly couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle, even though it made her stomach hurt more. She kicked off her shoes then crawled onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her.

"Do you want Sherlock to come in here, or would you prefer to be left alone?"

"He can come in if he wants, just as long as he keeps his drunken deductions to himself."

John laughed, "Yes well, good luck with that!"

He left her then, and she crawled further under the duvet. When Sherlock came into the room she was nothing but a lump beneath the blanket.

"Molly."

"Not a word Sherlock!" Her voice ebbed out from beneath the blanket.

He let out a soft huff.

"John doesn't think I'm pregnant and neither do I, I have a bloody fever! And if you're going to continue blathering on about it then you can just piss off and go help John and Mary do the washing up." She didn't mean to sound so snarky but she had the tendency to not be very nice when she didn't feel well. The lump shifted as she curled up onto her stomach.

"I'd rather stay here with you; make sure you're all right."

She could hear him taking off his shoes then felt the bed dip as he lay down beside her.

"Are you feeling any better?"

Molly let out a whimper, "Not really. My stomach still hurts horribly."

"Why don't you put on your pyjamas, at least the bottoms? You'll be more comfortable."

The only reply he was given was a grunt. He slipped his hands underneath the duvet and she let out a yelp as they made contact with her. He quickly uncovered her and she rolled over so that he could undo her trousers. He pulled them off, leaving her in her knickers whilst he went to grab her pyjama bottoms. She laid her hands upon her abdomen. When he moved back over to her and began to slip one pyjama leg on, then the other, she started to giggle. He looked up at her, wondering what she could possibly find so funny.

"Usually you're undressing me, not dressing me!" She explained.

He shook his head then finished pulling up the pyjamas. His hands coming to rest on her hips.

"If you weren't feeling unwell, I wouldn't be _only _undressing you." He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, "You do feel warm."

"Told you."

He lay back down next to her and she grabbed the duvet and covered herself entirely with it. The lump was shaking.

"Are you cold?"

"Mmhmm."

Sherlock slipped off the bed and searched about for another blanket that he knew that he had tucked away somewhere. Upon finding it he returned to the bed and draped it over the lump that was Molly Hooper.

"Better?"

She made a small noise, "Where are you?" Her hand appeared from beneath the duvet.

He grabbed a hold of it, "I'm here."

He moved closer to her and felt the duvet shift then her body was pressed against his, her head appearing above the blanket. He gathered her against his warmth, splaying his large hand over her stomach.

"Tea would help with the pain."

She made another small noise, "I just want to sleep."

He kissed her forehead, "Then go to sleep. You can have tea in the morning."

She closed her eyes, snuggling her head into his chest. The faint sounds of Mary and John washing the dishes in the kitchen slowly died away as she drifted off. By the time they quietly left the flat, both she and Sherlock were fast asleep.

* * *

><p>Forty-eight hours later and Sherlock was the one hugging the toilet. Groaning he reared onto his haunches, his head lolling back to lean against the wall.<p>

"I blame this entirely on you." He all but growled, sending a glare in Molly's direction.

She merely shook her head and wiped at his face with a damp towel, "Its human nature, we get sick, we sweat, we smell ... we just have to accept it and deal with it." She parroted.

He let out a loud huff then moved to cover his stomach with his arms, wincing slightly.

"Think you're done here?" She questioned a few moments later.

"Mmmm … yeah …" He came unsteadily to his feet and walked out of the bathroom, returning to the bedroom and crawling under the duvet.

He laid under it in much the same manner as Molly had done, except now there was a large Sherlock sized lump instead of a petite Molly sized one. She giggled softly as she followed him onto the bed. She started poking at the duvet.

"Where are you? You should put this back on your forehead." She was holding a small cold, damp cloth in her hand.

Suddenly a mess of curls appeared at the top of the bed, followed by a large hand that was making grabby motions at the air. She laughed again and pushed the cloth into his fingers. Curls and hand disappeared beneath the duvet once more.

"Want tea?"

She only got a grunt in reply. Shaking her head she moved herself carefully off of the bed and padded out of the room. When she returned to the bedroom, with two cups of tea, she could hear Sherlock groaning beneath the blanket.

"Oh God, I'm dying!"

Molly exhaled a loud, annoyed huff, "You are not dying! Stop being so bloody dramatic! Honestly Sherlock!" She put down the two cups and proceeded to give the duvet a tug, "Drink your tea, it will help."

The curls popped up once more, followed by the rest of his head, he peered out at her with red, glassy eyes. He really did look quite pathetic, but not dying, definitely_ not_ dying.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You survived two years away destroying Moriarty's web, I'm quite certain you are going to survive this stomach virus!"

With another (clearly over-dramatized) groan, he pushed himself up to a seated position and took the offered tea from her. He stayed silent the entire time he drank his tea. Molly sat herself down next to him and drank hers in silence as well. When they were both finished she took the two cups and brought them into the kitchen. Upon returning to the bedroom she found him having not entirely disappeared once more beneath the duvet. He was lying on his side, the blanket pulled up to his chin. He turned his gaze to her as she walked up to the bed.

She resituated the cloth on his forehead so that it wouldn't slide off. He uncurled one arm and opened up the duvet to her. With a smile she kicked off her slippers and slid under the blanket. He curled it back around them. She tucked herself in under his chin, pressing as much of her body up against him. He moaned in contentment.

"Better?" She questioned.

"Not so sure. Need more sleep."

She chuckled, moving her hand onto his back and massaging him gently with her fingers. He let out another moan. Minutes later he was snoring into her hair.

Sherlock was the first to wake the following morning. Molly was still curled up against him. His stomach no longer hurt, but he felt weak from lack of food. While working on a case he could go several days without eating or sleeping, clearly he could not do the same with an ill body.

Molly suddenly shifted, her breathing pattern changing. Her eyes opened slightly and she blinked sleepily up at him.

"Feeling any better?" She asked him.

He nodded and she reached her hand up to his forehead, the cloth having disappeared somewhere within the night.

"You no longer feel warm, that's good. Think you can eat something?"

"Yes."

"I'll make you some toast and tea, stay here. Once you eat that, and see if you keep it down, I'll heat up some of that soup Mrs. Hudson made." She slipped out from beneath the blanket, yawning as she padded from the room.

Sherlock rubbed at his face with his hands, wiping the sleep from his eyes before moving his hands through his curls. He desperately needed a shower, having sweated half the night away thanks to his fever.

Molly returned several minutes later with the tea and toast. Sherlock sat himself up, leaning back against the pillows.

"See, I told you, you'd survive!" She said to him as she sat herself down beside him and offered him the plate of toast.

He sniffed and took a piece of toast. They ate silently for a time, between intervals of drinking their tea. Once they were both finished Sherlock took a shower as Molly cleaned up their dishes. The rest of the day was spent lazing on the sofa together watching crap telly.

* * *

><p>The following morning, Sherlock (in spite of Molly's protestations that he should still rest) had returned full-fledged to solving murders and any other interesting case Scotland Yard could give him.<p>

Molly returned to work as well, having missed nearly a week due to her being sick then Sherlock as well. While in the lab she took a blood sample and tested herself for pregnancy. When the test came back negative she didn't know exactly how to feel. Was she relieved? Or was she disappointed? Perhaps a little bit of both.

That evening when she returned home Sherlock was sitting at his microscope studying samples he had gathered at the crime scene he had visited earlier that day. Molly stood in the doorway of the kitchen, having not even bothered to take off her coat.

His eyes hadn't left his microscope, "Molly … just say whatever it is. Wavering in the doorway won't help."

She stepped into the kitchen and he looked up at her, their eyes meeting.

"I'm not pregnant. I did a test at the lab."

He returned his gaze to his microscope, "Yes I know. I deduced that as soon as I became sick."

"Oh. I uhm … I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay."

Now Molly definitely didn't know how she felt. Sherlock's offhanded way of brushing off the lack of pregnancy somewhat threw her. They needed to have that conversation, especially since they were planning on getting married. But when? And how? It was clear to her that he was working on a case, so now was definitely not the time to do so.

A few days later, and still no baby conversation, Sherlock ended up with a case that took him away for an entire week; a double murder in Liverpool. When he returned home to 221B, he made certain to show Molly exactly how much he had missed her.

She had just settled down after a shower to a nice quiet meal of Chinese take away when he walked into the flat. He hadn't texted her that he was on his way home, the bastard, preferring to surprise her. Molly had barely given him any time for him to remove his scarf and Belstaff when she had thrown herself into his arms. Both scarf and coat had fallen unceremoniously to the floor.

Neither one of them gave any thought to foreplay; he was far too desperate to bury his cock deep inside of her, and she was just as desperate for him to do so. They didn't make it to the bed, only managing to travel as far as the bedroom door. For a few minutes they had fumbled with the removal of trousers and pants between desperate kisses, but once that was taken care of he entered her with one swift thrust. He knew that she was wet and ready for him, she always was.

She clung tightly to him, as he pressed her against the door. Her legs hooked around his hips as he entered her, making sure to fill her with his entire length every time before pulling out of her, only to fill her once more. The door rattled in its frame with his repeated movements.

It was times like these that neither one of them lasted long. Molly came with a loud cry, and after one particularly hard thrust Sherlock followed her, groaning out her name into her neck.

He carried her to the bed then, and gently eased her down onto the mattress. Once he had undressed himself he helped her out of her clothes then pulled her further upwards so that her head came to rest on one of the pillows.

"Hello …" She murmured huskily to him as he hovered over her.

They had both hardly spoken a word from the moment he walked in the door.

"Hello!" He answered back as he leaned downwards and kissed her.

"Mmmm!" She brought her hand up and carded her fingers through his curls, "I've missed you."

"Missed you too." He shifted his weight, placing his knees on either side of her hips so that he could bring his hands up to massage her breasts.

She moaned softly, arching her back into his touch as he rolled her nipples between his fingertips. Molly loved it when he returned home from a case that had taken him away because he always made sure to lavish her entire body with attention.

Once he had done so with both her breasts, making sure to use his mouth and tongue on each of them, he moved further downwards, nipping and lapping at her skin until he nestled himself between her legs. He gently eased them further apart, feeling his cock already beginning to twitch and harden once more.

Perhaps most men found it rather repulsive to go down upon a woman who was covered in their combined bodily fluids, but he rather liked it, and Molly most certainly never seemed to mind.

He licked her clean, finding the taste an intriguing one. She was quickly becoming a moaning, begging mess because he had purposely avoided touching her clit or her beckoning center. A fresh flow of juices greeted him as he dragged his tongue up and down her folds.

"Sherlock please!"

He raised his head, "Please what?"

Molly swore loudly, "I hate you so much some times!"

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before giving her a Cheshire cat grin, "What is it that you want?"

She looked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, "You know what I want."

"Tell me."

She swore again, "I want your tongue on me."

"Where? Here?" He dipped his head down and slid the tip of his tongue across the top of where her curls began.

She squeaked slightly, "Lower!" She panted.

"Here?" His voice was slightly muffled as he dipped his tongue out at the very top of her labia.

A small noise of frustration, "A little further over."

"Ahhh … you mean here!" He teased the area directly above her aching nub.

Another loud curse, "NO! ON MY CLIT DAMNIT!"

Her loud exclamation was met with a chuckle before he at last gave her exactly what she wanted. She moaned loudly, clutching at his head with her hands as he lapped at her clit, flicking it with his tongue. He loved the feel of it, and the noises she made due to his ministrations. It would never cease to fascinate him how such a small part of the body could contain so much pleasure.

As her moans grew louder, he increased the speed of his tongue, when her hips lifted upwards (a sure sign that she was close) he thrust three of his fingers into her bringing her directly to her peak. She screamed out his name, her fingernails digging into his scalp. He held his fingers inside of her, dragging his tongue across and up and down her clit as her body shivered beneath him. When she gave his curls a tug he pulled his mouth away from her and slid out his fingers.

Her breasts were rising and falling at a rapid rate as she fought to catch her breath. He sat up, his eyes meeting hers as he took all three fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. When he was done he stretched himself out along side of her before gently rolling her onto her side, his erection coming to rest on her hip bone. He had tucked himself around her, his chest pressed against her back. He draped an arm over her, just underneath her breasts so that he could brush a fingertip across her tender nipple.

His mouth was on the back of her neck, suckling and nipping at her skin, making certain to leave a few marks that he knew she would have to cover with a scarf or a high collared shirt. He let out a muffled curse into her neck when he felt her hand wrap around his cock. She thumbed at the tip, giving him a tender squeeze before dancing her fingertips up and down the length of him.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it away, lifting his head up. She turned her head so that she could look at him, smiling wickedly. She shifted her body ever so slightly, just enough so that she could angle her head better for a kiss.

As the kiss deepened he slipped his hand underneath her leg raising it slightly, wrapping his fingers around her inner thigh. He eased his hips back until he was able to nestle the head of his cock directly against her wet entrance. She moaned into his mouth as he slid himself into her.

He wasn't able to enter her quite as deeply as he would have liked from this angle, but she still felt incredible around him. They parted for breath, but their eyes stayed locked on each others as he continued to thrust into her. She reached back with one hand, clutching at his arse cheek, pulling him closer against her. He nipped at her shoulder with his teeth as her eyes fell closed and she leaned the back of her head against him. He placed open-mouthed kisses along her jaw line as she continued to moan softly.

With a slight shift of his hips he was able to enter her more fully. He groaned into her shoulder then watched in awe as she slipped her other hand downwards stopping when her fingertips reached her clit. He watched fascinated as she swirled her fingers around the tender nub.

"Sherlock!" She gasped out.

Her moans grew louder now as he began to thrust into her harder. She turned her head and their lips met in a passionate kiss as she continued to stroke her clit. He held tightly onto her leg, increasing his speed until they both cried out in unison. Their bodies stilled, his forehead resting against hers, panting against her lips. Ever so slowly he eased down her leg and slid his now-softened cock out of her. She twisted her body around so that she could cradle his face in her hands and pull him in for another passionate kiss, her breasts pressed up against his chest.

Once they parted Molly curled up beside him, brushing her fingertips lazily up and down his abdomen. Now that they were both fully sated, and their breathing had returned to a more normal rate, Sherlock asked the one question that his mind hadn't been able to stop thinking about the entire time he had been away.

"Do you not want children?"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**Aheh … you didn't think I was going to let that one by did you?! Hope you don't hate me for her not being pregnant … YET. **

**Also, I have this total headcanon that Sherlock would be a complete and utter drama queen/baby (aren't most men?!) when he is sick :-P**

**Be sure to let me know what you think ;)**


	23. Do You Not Want Children?

**Sorry for the long delay in updating. Been busy with work and real life, BLEH! Much rather prefer spending my time writing more Sherlolly ;) Also, I've been spending my time writing my little Christmas Sherlolly ficlets … there will probably another long delay between the next chapter … sorry! Just working out some ideas …**

**Anyway, bring on the baby discussion!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty-Three – Do You Not Want Children?<p>

* * *

><p>"Do you not want children?"<p>

Molly was certain that Sherlock had long ago deduced that, yes, she did want children, but the fact that he was asking her in this way surprised her. Instead of spewing out what he knew about her, as he used to always do, he was now allowing her to speak for herself.

She shifted her body until her breasts were pressed against his chest, her legs resting on either side of his hips, her head tucked under his chin. He slipped first one arm over her waist, then the other, his fingertips resting on either hip. She could hear the steady beat of his heart.

"Yes. Yes, I do want children. Someday."

"Someday?" He moved one of his hands to the small of her back.

"Yeah … someday."

"Not … now?"

She had never heard him sound so uncertain before. Lifting herself up, she peered down at him, faintly making out the contours of his face from the pale light of the moon that was coming from the window.

"I … uhh … I don't know anymore."

He furrowed his brows, "You're not getting any younger."

Normally she would have a snide retort but at this moment she had nothing to give, except a meek little, "I know."

Several beats of silence fell.

She had turned her eyes away from his strong gaze, "Do you … you want kids?" She still couldn't bring herself to look at him.

His reply came quickly, "Yes."

Her eyes flew up to meet his, widened in shock.

"I know, a bit surprising isn't it?"

"Surprising, yes, I never exactly thought you were the paternal type."

He gave a shrug, "Yes well … I find children to be entirely fascinating. They are underappreciated all of the time. Children can see and understand things in ways adults cannot. I admit though that I never actually thought I would have a chance to have a child of my own; I'm sure I'd be a rubbish father, but the thought of creating a new life … is a pleasant idea."

Molly smiled widely, "You want to have a child with me?"

"No … I want to with the woman who lives down the street. Of course I mean with you!"

She dug her nails lightly into his shoulder, "Arse!" She then let out a shriek as he flipped her over onto her back, his body now hovering over hers. She couldn't stop smiling.

"Let's make a baby." She breathed softly.

Sherlock chuckled and shook his head slowly, "Molly, Molly, we can't just have sex and expect to get pregnant straight away. You're still on the pill, for one, and there's an entire scientific aspect to becoming pregnant. There is a lot of research I'll need to do …"

She reached up and took his face in her hands, his eyes meeting hers, "Fine then, let's just shag, because I desperately need you _again_."

He continued to shake his head, "And you have the nerve to comment about my libido!"

Before he could say another word, she pulled him down to her and kissed him deeply.

* * *

><p>Molly had been lost in thought the entire day. Twice an intern had to stop her, telling her that she was using the wrong tool. Blushing profusely she desperately tried to force her mind to focus, but it just wouldn't work. At last she gave up and went to go speak with Mike.<p>

"I don't know what's the matter with me. My mind just keeps wandering today. I'm sorry Mike, I feel like I'm going to do more damage than good in the morgue today. I've already made a complete arse of myself in front of a couple of interns."

"Take the rest of the day off, and see how you feel tomorrow all right?"

Molly nodded then left his office and went to gather her things. Once in a cab her mind started to wander again. She knew exactly what it was that was distracting her so much; it had been dancing at the forefront of her mind all day. She had just not wanted to accept it. But now she clearly had no choice.

Sherlock wasn't at home when she arrived at Baker Street. She knew that he had a case. After changing out of her work clothes and into a pair of Sherlock's rattiest pyjamas, she made herself a cup of tea and went and sat upon the sofa. Toby crawled up onto her lap, happy to have her home so early. He was purring contentedly.

By the time Sherlock arrived home it had already grown dark. Molly was still sat upon the sofa, her tea long ago finished. She was staring blankly ahead, with Toby curled up on her lap, absent-mindedly twisting her engagement ring about her finger.

Sherlock hadn't even noticed she was on the sofa until he had taken off his Belstaff and scarf. He stood staring at her for several moments, finding her current state to be rather odd. Very un-Molly-like. Usually she greeted him at the door, wrapping her arms about him and pulling him in for a kiss. Also, she shouldn't be home right now, she should still be at work, with three more hours left to her shift.

"Molly?"

No answer.

She continued to stare ahead, spinning her ring about her finger.

"Molly?!"

He moved closer to her. She hadn't budged, entirely unaware of his presence. He sat down next to her and gave her shoulder a nudge.

"MOLLY!"

She jumped her eyes widening, then she began to blink rapidly, turning to look at him, "What?"

He rolled his eyes, "I kept saying your name, you weren't responding!"

"Oh, sorry. Now you know what it's like when you're in your bloody Mind Palace."

"Why are you home? You're supposed to still be at work! Are you sick again?" He moved his hand up to press it to her forehead but she swatted it away.

She moved to stand up, Toby growling in annoyance at being disturbed. Sherlock watched her as she started to pace, wringing her hands.

"Molly?"

He had told her that he wouldn't deduce her anymore that he would allow her to tell him what was bothering her or how she was feeling, or what she was thinking. But at this very moment it was extremely tempting to do so, to find out what was the matter.

"Sherlock … I …" She started to speak, but her voice faltered.

"Molly come sit back down."

She stopped pacing, hesitated but a moment then returned to the sofa. Sherlock pulled her onto his lap with his arms about her and she didn't resist, burying her face into his chest.

"What's wrong?" He questioned, his voice muddled by her hair.

"Can we – can we wait to start having kids?" Her question came out slowly, with a tint of fear in her voice.

She felt him relax beneath her, but his hold on her tightened.

"Is that it?"

She nodded.

"Well I'm grateful for that."

She leaned back and looked up at him, "Why? What did you think I was going to say?"

"Well …" His eyes drifted away from hers for a moment, "You kept fingering your engagement ring. I thought that perhaps you were regretting agreeing to marry me."

Her eyes narrowed, "Why would I regret that?"

He shrugged, "Because I'm … me!"

Molly shook her head, "That's the whole reason why I want to marry you!" She laid her head back down against his chest, this time her cheek coming to rest upon his shirt.

Both were silent for several moments, until Molly broke it.

"So … can we?"

Sherlock had moved one of his hands to the small of her back and was gently rubbing it up and down, "If it's what you want."

She tilted her body so that she could peer up at him and he could look down at her, "It is. And it's for entirely selfish reasons."

He raised his eyebrows then smiled slightly when a faint blush came to her cheeks.

"I want you all to myself." She explained, "At least for a little while, a year perhaps. Having a child changes everything. I want it to just be us … not for forever, just for a little bit."

His smile grew larger before he leaned down and kissed her gently, moving his hand up to cradle the back of her head, "All right." He murmured against her lips, "I like your reasoning."

"So you're not upset with me?"

He shook his head, "No. Why would I be?"

"I don't know. It's just … that whole conversation we had about having kids and all …"

"Molly … deciding to have children requires an agreement from both of us. And right now, I agree with you, I don't mind waiting. I rather like the idea of continuing with it just being the two of us for now. Once a child enters into our lives, everything will be different. Deciding to create a life and bring it into the world is not something that should be thought of lightly."

She reached up, and pulled him down to her for a deep kiss, "I love you Sherlock Holmes."

"And I love you soon-to-be Molly Holmes."

She chuckled against his mouth as she kissed him again. As the kiss deepened he shifted both of their bodies so that they could stretch out on the sofa. Toby returned, curling up on top of their legs. Sherlock glared at the feline but Molly quickly distracted Sherlock by giving his curls a gentle tug before pulling him in for another kiss.

* * *

><p>Several days later Molly was sat upon the kitchen table, wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns, holding a small container of ice cream in her hand and a spoon. It was her scheduled day off and she was determined to enjoy it in anyway she deemed fit.<p>

"Must you eat it like that?" Sherlock sneered as he walked into the kitchen.

"What's it to you? It's cherry and vanilla! The flavour you don't like!" She stated, flourishing with her spoon before delving back into the ice cream.

Sherlock watched mesmerized as she sucked off the cream from the spoon, licking it slowly until it was clean. He blinked rapidly, then glared at her when he realized she had done all of that on purpose. She only smiled innocently at him and proceeded to continue eating. He grumbled quietly, forcing himself to look away from her. He had every intention of starting a new experiment and would not allow her to distract him.

"Oops!"

He turned and looked at her.

"Oh dear what a mess I've made!"

She had spilled several drops of ice cream onto the dressing gown, right between the dip of her breasts. She dropped the spoon into the container then placed it onto the table before pushing herself to her feet.

"Guess I'll just have to take it off!"

She slowly began to untie the knot, blatantly ignoring the fact that Sherlock was standing frozen watching her. As soon as the knot was untied, the dressing gown falling open slightly to reveal she wore nothing underneath, she stopped and looked up at him.

"Something wrong?"

From the moment she had said 'oops' her voice had taken on an entirely different tone. Soft, lilting, a little bit too sweet, and innocent. He narrowed his eyes then strode over to her.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

She blinked up at him, "Doing what?"

"Molly … stop it!"

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything."

He growled slightly, "You're trying to seduce me."

"Seduce you?" She let out a bark of laughter, "I didn't think you were the seducible type! I was merely just enjoying my ice cream when I accidentally spilled some on myself. That's all." She batted her eye lashes and that was the final straw.

He let out another low growl and planted his hands on either side of her, locking her between him and the table. She continued to stare up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Pay back." He snarled.

"Oh? Well in that case." She reached up her hands and pushed the dressing gown from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor so that she was now standing naked before him.

He swallowed, his eyes drifting down to her breasts. She smiled slightly, before reaching off to the side and picking up the container of ice cream.

"You don't mind if I continue eating, do you? Otherwise it will melt. Please proceed, in whatever you were planning on doing."

She dipped her spoon into the now very-soft ice cream and scooped out a generous amount. She slowly licked it off the spoon, keeping her eyes locked on Sherlock's. He wasn't looking at her though; instead he was watching her mouth and tongue. Suddenly he reached up and grabbed the container away from her and the spoon as well.

"Hey! I was eating that!"

He placed both down onto the table, stepping closer to her, "Yes, in a very seductive way I might add."

She raised an eyebrow, "Did you just call me seductive?"

"Yes."

She smiled up at him.

"Well played Miss Hooper."

"Can your experiment wait?"

"You've left me with no choice but to hold it off until a later time."

He still had not touched her.

"What do you plan to do then?"

He tilted himself closer to her, "Lean back." His voice had grown deeper, huskier.

She did as he asked, the cheeks of her bum pressing slightly into the edge of the table, her breasts tipping upwards towards him. He swallowed again then reached out blindly, not removing his gaze from her breasts, to grab up the spoon and dip it into the now almost entirely melted ice cream. She let out a gasp as he drizzled the melted cream over her nipples.

A soft whimper escaped her throat when he dipped his head down and lapped off the creamy confection with his tongue. He didn't touch her distended nipples though, only circling around them. They positively ached from the coldness of the ice cream. She whimpered again when he drizzled more onto her skin and repeated the action. He did this one more time, her moans filling the kitchen, and then he at last took a nipple into her mouth and gave it a long, drawn out suck before moving to the other one.

"You know Molly … this may not be my favourite flavour of ice cream, but paired with the taste of your skin … mmm … I find it to be quite delicious." He murmured this around her breast in his mouth before latching onto her nipple and giving it another suck.

By the time he had licked her breasts clean she was a panting mess. She pulled him to her for a searing kiss, tasting the vanilla and cherry on his tongue. He grabbed her about the hips and lifted her up, placing her on top of the table. She hooked her legs around his waist, locking her ankles below the cheeks of his arse.

As they continued to kiss she moved her hands to the front of his shirt and began to unbutton it. Holding onto her hip with one hand he moved his other to undo his trousers. Within moments he was as naked as she, his erection jutting up against her. She moaned into his mouth when he nudged the head of his cock along her wet folds. Dropping her hand down, she wrapped it around his length and positioned him at her opening. He broke apart the kiss and shook his head, breathing heavily. She gave him a questioning look.

He grabbed her about the hips again and pulled her forward onto her feet as he stepped back. Before she could say anything he had spun her about, his chest pressing against her, his cock nestled between the cheeks of her arse.

"Bend over, Molly." He murmured into her ear, "Lean on the table."

Her breath hitched slightly, but she did as he asked, certain that she was growing wetter at the thought of what they were about to do. He had never before taken her quite like this. He nudged her legs further apart and stepped slightly away from her.

She was on perfect display for him, pink and glistening. She turned her head slightly, looking at him over her shoulder. He stepped forward, his legs touching the back of hers, and into her wet, welcoming heat he slid until he was nestled fully inside of her.

"Mmmm … oh!" She moaned, grabbing tightly onto the edges of the table.

He held firmly onto her hips, slowly easing himself in and out of her, reveling in the sensation that this new position was giving the pair of them. The only sounds were their mutual moans and skin slapping against skin. He eventually quickened the pace, the need for it becoming too great. She was moaning repeatedly. Suddenly she began to swivel her hips back and forth, intensifying the feeling that their joined bodies were creating.

"Fuck! Molly!" He groaned, digging his fingertips into her hips.

He was thrusting hard into her now, his bollocks slapping against her loudly. Releasing one of his hands from her hip he dropped it under their joined bodies and began to stroke her clit. She cried out and her hips grew still as her orgasm took over, he gave several more solid thrusts before emptying himself into her with a loud groan.

He fell against her, his forehead resting against her back. Both of them were panting heavily. After a few more moments he lifted himself up and slid his softened cock out of her. He helped her up as well then pulled her towards the bathroom.

Instead of turning on the shower he filled up the tub. She leaned against him, her head on his chest as they waited for it to fill with water. He put his arms about her and held her close. She could hear the rapid beating of his heart.

"You're not allowed to eat ice cream anymore." He stated firmly.

She let out a giggle and brought her hands up to his curls, tugging them slightly. He dropped his head down for a kiss. By the time they parted the tub was ready. She stepped into the water and he followed her in, both of them easing themselves down into the warmth.

Molly let out a satisfied sigh, curling herself against him. He put his arm about her, and placed a kiss on her temple. For several minutes neither one of them spoke. She had her hand on his chest and was admiring her ring. Sherlock brought his hand up and placed his palm on top of hers, brushing his thumb over the diamond.

Molly tilted her head slightly and looked up at him, "You're mother won't stop texting me about the wedding, Sherlock. She seems to have taken the idea into her head that she is going to plan it for us!"

"Don't worry about it Molly. She's _not_ going to take over the planning of our wedding."

"She isn't? She seems quite determined to do so!"

Sherlock snorted slightly, "Nope. She won't. She can't."

Molly rolled her eyes when he popped the 'p' in his usual manner, "And why is that?"

"Because _I _am going to be our wedding planner."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh dear :D **

**I just had to, with the whole episode where Sherlock is helping John and Mary with their wedding … I knew I just had to make Sherlock, his and Molly's wedding planner ;) This is gonna be fun! *rubs hands together with glee***

**Also, I hope no one is too disappointed with how I handled the baby discussion; I do want them to have kids … just not … yet ;)**


	24. I am Going to be Our Wedding Planner

**What's this? AN UPDATE?! :O**

**I am so sorry for how long it has been! I feel terrible! I wish that I could have updated sooner but I had family visiting, then it was Christmas, then I was sick, and to top it all I had an awful touch of Writer's Block. BAH!**

**Anywho, I am so glad to be back writing. I must admit though, I struggled for a bit with ideas and this chapter turned out entirely different then I originally intended it to. **

**ALSO this chapter is, I believe, the longest so far, over 7,000 words! =O **

**Once I started I just couldn't stop, and there wasn't anywhere that I could cut it off and not ruin the flow. I doubt anyone really minds though … at least I hope not!**

**Oh and another thing, there is quite a bit of smut in this chapter … heh … I HIGHLY doubt any of you mind that! :-P hehe**

**There is a particular smutty scene in this chapter that I dedicate fully to MizJoely and Pottermeg95 … I think you'll see why when you read it ;)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty-Four – I am going to be Our Wedding Planner<p>

* * *

><p>"Because <em>I <em>am going to be our wedding planner." Sherlock declared firmly.

Molly blinked at him like a myopic owl, "You actually mean that?"

He let out a snort of derision, "Of course I do! Didn't you know I helped the Watson's plan theirs?"

Molly shifted her body slightly, the water in the bath sloshing along the sides, "Well uhm, yeah, I do recall Mary mentioning that once or twice. Are you entirely sure that you want to? It requires a lot of work, doesn't it?"

Sherlock shrugged, "I never deleted any of the data I acquired while planning theirs, thinking that perhaps it would come in use for a case." He paused and turned and looked at her, his gaze softening, "I must admit, I never once considered the possibility that I would use the information for … _us._"

Molly bit down on her bottom lip slightly before curling herself back up against him; Sherlock tightening his hold around her. They lay like this silently for several minutes.

"When should we have the wedding?" She had tilted her head back slightly in order to peer up at him.

He answered quickly, "In the spring of course. That's your favourite season."

She giggled slightly, "But what about your favourite season?"

"Mmm … don't have one. Never really thought much of it."

"Liar."

Sherlock raised both eyebrows as he looked down at her, "Am I?"

"Yes. Winter is your favourite season, because its bitter cold out and you can pop the collar of your beloved Belstaff and wear it all the time, without looking ridiculous."

He grumbled as he leaned further back into the bath. Molly smiled triumphantly as she slipped her leg in-between both of his, her bare breasts brushing up against his rib cage. He stared defiantly at the wall ahead of him.

"To get married before this winter is over would require a rush job and I'd rather not have the wedding until everything is perfectly planned, and I am _not_ waiting until it is winter again to make you my wife; we're getting married in the spring." He stated all of this in a rather firm tone.

Molly bit back another giggle, "Yes sir!"

He rolled his eyes wearily before saying, "Second Saturday in May. What do you think?" He looked down at her.

"Sounds perfect."

"May 9th it is then."

* * *

><p>January had passed by quickly. A little too quickly. It was almost as if the month had barely existed. Molly had had to take double shifts multiple times every week, due to a lack of pathologists (one had left on maternity leave, and another had gone on holiday). Sherlock had kept himself busy with cases, thus resulting in them hardly seeing each other, only really ever communicating via text messaging.<p>

Not since that time in the bath had there been any further mention of their wedding. Molly thought that perhaps Sherlock had placed that to the back of his mind, in order to focus on his cases.

They were now nearing the end of the first week of February and Molly's schedule was slowly returning to normalcy. Sherlock had texted her that he had solved his most recent case, and that John had threatened him with murder if he decided to take up another one. John was not very appreciative in the fact that he kept being taken away from his wife and daughter for such long periods of time.

When Molly arrived home she found Sherlock clad in his dressing gown and sprawled across the sofa, an electronic device clasped in his hands. She was rather surprised by this, expecting him to be passed out in their bed as he so often did after a long case. Instead he appeared to be so lost in whatever he was reading (or looking at) that he hadn't even noticed when Molly entered the flat.

"Why are you on my tablet? Your laptop suddenly not good enough for you?" She was standing beside him, her hands upon her hips, "Reading my journal?" She tried her best to look angry.

Sherlock shot up and spluttered, his eyes widening. He knew all too well how she could be when she was annoyed. But when Molly started to laugh he visibly relaxed.

"I really don't care, read away!" She waved her hand dismissively and began to remove her coat, "I don't have any secrets from you."

When she returned to the sofa he had turned off the tablet and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"You look exhausted, why aren't you in bed, asleep?" She said to him.

He grabbed her hand and tugged her down. After toeing off her shoes she curled herself up against him.

"I wanted to see you." He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, "You look tired as well."

"Oh God, I am! My feet and back are aching. I just want to sleep for days. Teach me your ways, Sherlock!"

He chuckled, putting his arm around her and enveloping her in his warmth. She sighed happily, snuggling into his chest.

"Are you hungry?" She was nuzzling the dressing gown with her nose, breathing in his scent.

"No. Mrs. Hudson brought me up tea and sandwiches a little while ago. Are you?"

"No. I ate in the canteen."

"Good."

Suddenly, without another word, Sherlock scooped Molly up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. After laying her down upon the mattress he untied his robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing that he wore nothing beneath it. Molly raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"There will be time enough for that later, right now I desperately need sleep, and I know that you do as well." He stated firmly.

She had to agree; her body, as well as her mind was exhausted. As he slid beneath the sheets and duvet she got up off the bed and removed her clothes. Now as naked as he, she slipped beneath the sheets and he grabbed her, pulling her flush up against him.

"Mmm … I've missed the feel of your skin against mine." She murmured, peppering his chest with kisses.

He was running his hand up and down her back, faintly massaging her with his fingertips, "So have I."

Within minutes the pair of them were fast asleep. When they both awoke it was nearing late evening of the next day. Molly was certain she had never slept for such a long length of time, in one go, before.

Sherlock stretched, yawning loudly before he turned to face her, she was blinking sleepily. He grabbed her about the hips, dragging her to him, when her body was tucked up against his he cupped her bum in his hands. He kissed her then and she moaned into his mouth, his hardening length touching her belly. She sighed his name against his lips.

When she gave him a gentle push he ended the kiss and looked at her, confusion etched upon his face. She returned his gaze with a look of disappointment.

"I have to be at work in less than an hour Sherlock. I meant to set an alarm and completely forgot."

He dropped his forehead down to her shoulder, grumbling unhappily, "Call in sick, I need you." He nipped at her skin.

She brought her hands up to his curls, massaging his scalp, "I wish that I could, but we're still short-staffed. I'm sorry Sherlock. I need you too." She nuzzled his ear with her nose, "You can shower with me, if you promise to behave!"

He let out a low growl, before lifting himself off of her and pulling her up from the mattress. They quickly showered, and he did behave, in spite of the fact that he desperately didn't want to. After a quick bite to eat, Molly left him pouting in his chair.

Not even thirty minutes later, after Molly had gotten to work and had settled herself into her first autopsy of the evening, Sherlock strolled into the morgue. She was surprised to see him, for he hadn't texted her that he would be stopping by.

"New case?" She asked him.

He gave her a tender kiss before answering her, "No. Since we can't shag, _yet_, and the only cases in my inbox are boring ones I thought I'd come to Bart's and watch you work. I miss your company."

Molly blushed but found herself smiling, "All right then."

She settled back into work, and Sherlock made himself comfortable in a nearby chair. He watched her for a time then became distracted by his phone. When he suddenly sat up very straight, Molly turned and looked at him.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes … just reading something, that's all." He replied, not looking up from his phone.

She finished up the autopsy and wheeled the body back in, snapping off her gloves before chucking them in the bin. After washing her hands she gathered up her recorder.

"Sherlock, I'm going to go to my office now, to write out the report."

His eyes snapped up from his phone and met hers, "All right. I think I have a case. I'll see you later." His words came out in a rush, he grabbed up his coat and threw it on, wrapping his scarf about his neck before bending down to plant a kiss upon her mouth, "I'll text you."

"Ok." She watched him walk out of the morgue, before following him but turning in the opposite direction towards her office.

The hours wore on without any texts from Sherlock. She focused her mind on other things, filling out reports and doing more autopsies. Occasionally her mind would drift back to when she had come upon him with her tablet. He hadn't told her why he was using it, and she hadn't asked questions. But every now and then she would start to wonder what it was that he had been doing with it. She wasn't bothered by the fact, just curious.

The night was a slow one, graveyard shifts usually were. Molly was grateful that this would be her last one for quite a while. Surprisingly though, she didn't feel the least bit tired. Just as midnight rolled around she heard her text tone ping. She was in the middle of an autopsy and didn't want to bother with taking off her gloves and washing her hands so she waited until she had finished. Thirteen minutes later the body had been wheeled away.

Happy Birthday! – Meena xoxox

Molly couldn't help but smile. Meena had been keeping the tradition going that directly at the moment of your birthday she had to send a text. Molly texted back a thank you before taking note that she still hadn't heard from Sherlock. She rolled her eyes, thinking that he was probably locked away in his Mind Palace, oblivious to the passing hours.

A few minutes later her text tone pinged again. She grabbed up her phone and saw that it was from Sherlock.

I've got a case. Will be taking me out of London for at least a day, possibly two. Sorry that I'll be missing your birthday. – SH

Molly bit down on her lip. So he did remember. She let out a disappointed sigh, before typing back.

That's quite all right. You'll just have to make it up to me ;) – Mx

Don't worry, I intend to. – SH

The rest of her shift passed by quickly, Molly was glad when it was time for her to go home. When she reached Baker Street, the sky brightening with the early morning light, she entered the building of 221B and slowly began to make her way up the stairs, humming quietly to herself. It wasn't a very upbeat song that she was humming, for she was not in a very upbeat mood.

Ever since she had left her teens behind her she hadn't exactly thought much of birthdays. Usually Meena would take her out to some posh restaurant for dinner, and then they would go back to her flat and gorge on red wine and ice cream while watching a marathon of chick-flicks. It wasn't much, but she always enjoyed it.

This year, now that she was with Sherlock, _engaged _to Sherlock, she had hoped that they would be spending the evening together in bed. That's all that she really wanted, a delicious marathon of shagging with the man she loved. But no, he had to take a case.

Molly knew that she was being ridiculous, acting like a disappointed child, but she couldn't help it. They hadn't had sex for such a long time, and she was desperate for him. Now it would seem that she would have to wait just a little bit longer.

She let out a sigh, her humming coming to an end as she opened the door to their flat and stepped inside. She came to a standstill when she noticed a tall, dark figure standing in the middle of the main room, letting out a squeak as the figure moved towards her into the light.

Her eyes widened in shock. The tall, dark figure was no stranger, but in fact Sherlock. Although he looked nothing like himself. His curls were slicked back, and he was dressed entirely in black; tight trousers and a formfitting long sleeve shirt.

Molly's mouth dropped open, noting how very much so he looked like a certain someone, "Sherlock … what? I thought you were out on a case!"

He continued to move forward, "That is not my name. My name is _Khan_."

Molly's eyes widened further, all of the pieces of the puzzle that had been buzzing about in her mind, falling in to place. _This_ was why he had been on her tablet.

He was standing directly in front of her now, allowing Molly to see that the shirt he was wearing had upon it the Star Fleet insignia. She felt herself blush at the thought that he had gone to such an extent to fulfill one of her fantasies. He reached out and ran his hand up along the length of her arm, his eyes meeting hers.

"Now Doctor Hooper … shall we begin?"

"Begin-begin what?" She squeaked out.

A slow, rather predatory looking smile came upon his face, "My ravishing of your body."

Her eyes grew even larger, her mouth dropping open. His smile widened before he lifted her up in his arms, tossing her over his shoulder. She had let out a shriek as he did this, carrying her into their bedroom. Once he had kicked the door shut behind them he placed her down onto the floor.

"Off with these, Doctor Hooper." He demanded, giving her jumper a slight tug.

She did as he asked, pulling off the jumper and taking her shirt with it. Leaving herself clad in her bra she undid her trousers and pulled them down after toeing off her shoes and removing her socks. All the while he watched her. She now stood before him in only her bra and knickers.

"Continue." He beckoned to the fabric that still lay upon her body.

She reached behind her and undid the clasp, letting her bra drop to the floor before hooking her fingers beneath the fabric of her knickers and pushing them down. There was an obvious wet patch in the very center of her pants. He stepped closer to her, so close that she could feel his body heat.

"Undress me." He spoke these words in a hoarse whisper.

The apex between her thighs was positively aching now. She took a hold of the hem of his shirt and pulled it upwards. He raised his arms and she lifted off the shirt, tossing it to the floor to join her clothes, before running her hands down over his chest.

"Now my trousers."

She undid the zip, grabbing the fabric on either side of his hips and tugging it downwards. His erection sprang free, revealing that he wasn't wearing any pants. He stepped away from her slightly, in order so that he could take off his own shoes and socks, before she continued to remove his trousers. Now they both stood entirely naked before each other. Molly was breathing heavily, in anticipation of what he planned to do.

Suddenly he spun her about, his firm, bare chest pressed against her back, his hardened length nestled between the cheeks of her arse. His hand that he had splayed out across her abdomen now moved downwards until he could dip a finger between her folds, giving her soaked clit a few swipes with his fingertip.

"Ohhh…!" She moaned.

"Bend over." He murmured hoarsely into ear, "Lie upon the bed."

She stepped away from his embrace, and did as he asked, her breasts coming to rest upon the mattress before spreading her legs. She could feel his body heat as he situated himself directly behind her. He nudged her parted, glistening folds with the head of his erection.

"Where do you want me to put my cock, Doctor Hooper?"

Sherlock had never been one for dirty talk, but clearly acting as someone else he didn't seem to mind. He slid the tip up and down her slit several more times before repeating his question, "Where do you want me to put my cock, Doctor Hooper?"

"Mmmm! Ohhhh … in my pussy!" She panted out, "Please! I want your cock in my pu-pussy!" She had never spoken that word in Sherlock's presence before and felt herself blushing darkly.

He stopped his teasing and dipped the head directly into her wet entrance, allowing it to rest there, "Is this where you want my cock?" He shifted his hips slightly forward, allowing himself to slide into her just a little bit further.

"Yes! Oh yes! FUCK!"

He delved entirely into her then, the bed shaking slightly from his fast movement, as he bottomed out.

"AHH! Oh fuck me Khan! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

Grabbing a hold of her hips he settled himself into an almost punishing pace of deep and fast thrusts. He had never before taken her quite so roughly, but it felt so incredibly good. The angle that she was laying at caused the perfect amount of friction directly against her clit. The hard points of her nipples were being pushed up against the fabric of the sheets each time that he entered her. She felt as if her entire body were on fire with pleasure. She knew that she wasn't going to last much longer and that when her orgasm hit, she was going to come hard.

"How does my cock feel, buried deep inside of your pussy?"

Molly let out a slight squeak, as he continued to practically pound into her, "So good!" She panted out, "Your cock feels so good! Oh!"

"Are you going to come, Doctor Hooper? Am I going to make you come?"

Molly grabbed tightly onto the sheets, her hands fisting, as his hips continued to smack against her, she was certain there would be bruises later, "YES! I'm so close!" She cried out.

"Don't. Not yet. Don't let yourself come. I want us to come together."

She hid her face in the mattress, panting heavily into the fabric as she willed her body to hold back, but this was nearly impossible, what he was doing to her felt so incredibly fantastic!

After several more particularly hard thrusts he let out a curse before saying, "Let go now Doctor Hooper, come with me!"

She screamed his name into the mattress as he tilted his hips upward, allowing the head of his cock to press directly against her g-spot as he continued to thrust several more times before growing still, his hips pressed tightly up against the curves of her arse.

Her orgasm had exploded over her. Each of her nerve endings surging with pleasure as the endorphins rushed through her body. She was certain she was going to pass out.

He slid out his softening cock and collapsed beside her. Molly had her face buried in the sheets, her hands still in fists. He eased her fingers apart, kissing his way up her neck, panting against her skin. She at last turned her face towards him, her skin flushed, breathing heavily. Ever so gently he rolled her onto her back, her legs still hanging off the edge of the bed, as he draped an arm across her torso.

"Fucking hell, Sherlock." She gasped out, still regaining her breath.

He flashed her a pleased smile, "Happy Birthday Molly."

"Cheeky git. I thought you didn't enjoy celebrating birthdays?"

He nuzzled her skin, nipping lightly at her jaw line with his teeth, "Well … my own I don't care about … but you had dressed up like a pirate wench for me, so I felt that I had to return the favour."

"Mmm … and how!"

She turned her body so that she was facing him more fully. She kissed him then, pressing herself up against him, their tongues performing a dance together.

"Thank you." She murmured against his lips, "Best. Present. Ever." She accentuated each word with a kiss.

Sherlock smiled and kissed her again.

"How did you get your hair to look like this?" She was admiring his new, slicked back do.

" … whole bottle of gel."

"Really?" She reached up to touch it, "My God, your hair is practically solid! It feels awful!"

"It feels strange to me. I'm used to my hair … moving."

"I don't like it." Molly settled herself back down, laying her head onto his shoulder, "Don't get me wrong, I admire the lengths you went to for me, but I much more prefer your curls. Next time you don't have to do the hair."

"Next time?" Sherlock enquired.

"Oh yes, don't think this will be just a one time thing Mr. Holmes." She gave his chest a poke with her finger, before she shifted herself slightly so that she could whisper huskily into his ear, "I'll dress up for you like a pirate any time that you want!" She gave his earlobe a nibble, then let out a shriek as he swiftly rolled her once more onto her back, his body now hovering over hers.

"I'll hold you to that."

She smiled cheekily up at him, "Mmm … please do!"

He kissed her then, hushing her up. As the kiss deepened Molly moved her hands up to the back of his neck. But when she let out a noise of disappointment Sherlock moved away and peered down at her.

"I think a shower is in order! I don't like that I can't run my fingers through your hair!" Molly stuck out her bottom lip, in perfect imitation of him pouting.

He reared back onto his knees before helping her up. He then slid off the bed and scooped her up into his arms and carried her towards the bathroom. Once they were standing underneath the fall of hot water, Molly began to work her fingers through his hair. Sherlock grabbed the nearby bottle of shampoo and helped to lather it up.

"There, that's better." She declared, as soon as she was able to work her fingers through his now smooth hair.

Sherlock murmured in agreement and closed his eyes as she began to massage his scalp.

"You're like a cat! All that's missing is you purring!" She giggled, scraping her nails along his skin ever so slightly.

He grabbed her about the waist and pulled her close up against him, "No I'm not." He spat out and Molly giggled again.

When he bit down on her neck, directly over her pulse point, she let out a loud, sharp exhalation of air. He had moved his hands further downwards until they were able to cup her bum, "I'm not finished with you yet, there's a lot more sex to be had!"

"Glad to hear it!"

He reached out blindly to turn off the water as he cradled the back of her head with his other hand and kissed her passionately. Molly hummed happily against his lips, feeling him hardening against her. She slipped her hand down between their bodies and wrapped it around his length, giving it a few pumps. Sherlock cursed against her lips.

He picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder very much so in the same manner that he had done earlier. Molly laughed loudly as he made his way back into their bedroom.

"What about towels? We're both soaked!" She cried out.

"What of it?" He tossed her onto the bed as she continued to giggle.

"You're utterly ridiculous!"

He covered her body with his, droplets from his hair falling onto her skin, "You love it."

"Mmm … yeah I do!"

He peered down at her, his eyes trailing over her body, "I didn't hurt you, did I? Before?"

Molly shook her head, "No. I may have some bruising, but it's all right, every moment of it felt wonderful!" She pulled him down to her for a heated kiss.

As the kiss continued to intensify, with Sherlock's hot, hard length pressing against her thigh, Molly could feel the all too familiar ache forming between her legs. She wanted him again.

"Sherlock …"

"Mmm?" He was about to take her breast into his mouth.

"Since it's my birthday, can we try out a new position?"

He lifted up his head and looked down at her, "We can try out new positions any time that you want; it doesn't have to be just on your birthday."

Molly giggled, "I know. I do rather like the fact that you enjoy _experimenting_."

"What's this new position called?"

"Oh, it has an awful name!"

"Worse than cowgirl?"

" … yeah, it's called The Octopus."

"Octo-pus?" Sherlock repeated this slowly.

"Mmmhmm, told you its terrible!"

"Well, I'm rather intrigued, do explain it!"

Molly nibbled on her bottom lip then pulled his head down and whispered into his ear how the position worked.

"Let's do it!" He announced excitedly.

Molly threw back her head, laughing at Sherlock's eagerness as he pushed himself up off of her. She quickly sat up, watching as he stretched his legs out before him and leaned back on his palms. His erection was jutting out from between his hips, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

She suppressed a moan at the thought of what they were about to do. She crawled over to him then slowly straddled his waist, lowering herself down onto his hot shaft.

"Fuck!" She whimpered, leaning back onto her hands.

Once he was fully seated inside of her she began to lift her left leg up onto his shoulder. Sherlock helped, grabbing her ankle, then the other as she lifted her right leg.  
>A deep guttural sigh erupted from her as he began to move, lifting his hips almost completely off of the bed, before dropping down, allowing her body to delve onto his cock.<p>

"Fuck! Molly!" Sherlock groaned, entirely fascinated by the sight that her spread legs were giving him.

He was hitting her g-spot once more; she knew that she wasn't going to last long. His knees were bent now, she grabbed them for leverage, pulling herself more forward slightly, changing the angle that he was entering her, and also allowing herself to rock her body against his. Sherlock watched, mesmerized by the image of her breasts bouncing before him.

Her toes began to curl as her orgasm slowly reached its peak, "Oh God Sherlock!" she panted out.

With a loud cry she stopped her movements, her orgasm coursing through her veins, her legs trembling. Sherlock pressed his hips upwards, practically lifting himself off the mattress once again as he moaned her name.

Molly's arms buckled, the effort it took to hold herself up was too much. It was as if her entire body had turned into rubber. She fell back against the bed, between his legs, panting heavily.

Sherlock held himself steady taking several deep breaths before shifting himself onto one hand. He turned his head and gave her left ankle a kiss before slowly easing it down to the bed alongside of him. He did the same with her right leg. Once she was laid out upon the bed he slipped his legs out from along side of her, before laying himself down as well.

Both of their bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, their hair still damp from the shower and the effort of their lovemaking.

"No idea why that is called The Octopus!" Sherlock had buried his face in her neck, suckling at her skin.

"No idea! But it was bloody fantastic!"

Sherlock hummed in agreement, as she curled her body against his, moaning softly as he brought a hand up to massage her breast.

"I think I'll need some food before we continue on into anything else!"

He tweaked her nipple with his fingers, still nibbling on her neck, "There's take away on the stove. I got all your favourites."

"MMM! You do spoil me!"

He lifted up his head and planted a kiss upon her lips, "That is my intention!"

She continued to smile up at him.

"I thought you were hungry?" He questioned.

"I am. In a few minutes. I'm not so sure I can walk yet!"

Sherlock chuckled, pulling her close up against him. They kissed for a time, their hands wandering over each other's bodies; exploring, stroking. Only parting when oxygen was needed and Molly's stomach began to growl. Each of them pulled on a dressing gown and padded slowly out to the kitchen. Toby meowed hungrily at them both, glad to no longer be alone.

"I think I'm going to have to increase my yoga stretches." Molly noted as she rubbed the back of her thigh as she bent down to pet Toby.

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"No, I'm just sore that's all. I didn't pull any muscles. It's a good kind of sore, trust me." She kissed his cheek and began to dish out cat food.

Sherlock put their food onto plates, not wanting to bother with heating anything up. They carried their plates out of the kitchen and sat upon the sofa, Molly draping her legs across his lap. Toby had had his fill and was now curled up on Sherlock's chair, washing his face and paws. Sherlock glared at the cat but said nothing.  
>He finished eating before Molly did, and after he had placed his empty plate upon the coffee table he pushed her dressing gown to up around her thighs and began to massage her legs.<p>

"Ohh ... that feels nice!"

She finished eating and Sherlock took her plate, placing it on top of his. She leaned back into the arm of the sofa as he returned to massaging her.

"How come you told me that you had a case?" She was gazing at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Ahh ... I wanted you to be a bit disappointed, knowing that you're level of excitement in finding out that I was actually here, would only increase your pleasure."

She nudged his arm with her foot, "Berk."

"It worked though, didn't it?" He gave her a charming smile.

"Hmmm ... you're lucky it did."

Silence fell as he continued to massage her legs, slowly moving upwards towards her thighs.

"What made you choose Khan?"

"Pinterest." He deadpanned.

Molly covered her face with her hands, "Oh God! You found that? How mortifying!"

"You don't mind if I read your journal, but you consider my finding your Pinterest embarrassing?" He gave her skin a slight pinch with his fingers.

She dropped her hands away, "Yes! I'll have you know though, I pinned those pictures long before we were together!"

He shrugged, "It doesn't bother me. He's a fictional character!"

"Yes, he may be a fictional character, but he's played by a very real, very fit man!"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "You do realize you'll never actually meet him?"

Molly laughed, "Oh I know that! Especially now! You'll probably make your brother throw him out of the country!"

Sherlock sniffed.

"It doesn't matter ..." She gave his arm another nudge with her foot, "He's not you. I only want you."

Sherlock's smile returned. He moved her legs off of him so that he could stretch himself out along side her. Molly wrapped her arms about his neck.

"You had quite a few of his mannerisms down ... did you watch the movie?"

"Yes. That day when you came home and found me on your tablet, I had just finished watching it. I was bored."

"I suppose that's better than you shooting up the wall! Did you like it?"

"No. It was riddled with mistakes and scientific inaccuracy! The things they did are not possible!"

"It's a movie Sherlock, it's made for enjoyment."

He huffed.

"Well I like it, and I like him. Thank you for watching it ... for my sake." She gave the underside of his jaw a kiss.

Sherlock moved his hand down her back, trailing his fingers over her bum through the fabric of the dressing gown, before reaching her thigh and proceeding with his massaging. Molly let out a noise of contentment. Sherlock tipped his head to the side and suckled on her collar bone, sliding his tongue into the soft dip of her skin.

"How exactly did you find out about that ridiculously named position?" His voice rumbled against her skin.

Molly giggled; Sherlock looked up at her, watching the blush come to her cheeks

"Cosmo mag." She answered, "Meena had it with her the other day when we had lunch together in the canteen. I was perusing it and came across an article about sex positions. I thought it looked interesting."

Sherlock returned his mouth to her skin, as his fingers worked her sore muscles.

"I must admit defeat though."

Sherlock lifted his head to look at her, "Defeat?" His brows were furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah, as fantastic as that felt, I don't think I could ever do it again. It requires a bit too much effort."

Sherlock blinked for a second, "Agreed. And as much as I enjoyed the view, you were too far away from me. Not intimate enough."

Molly giggled again, "Never thought I'd hear you use that word!"

He huffed slightly, "Well it's true, I much more prefer being closer to you, I couldn't touch you at all, and I do like touching you."

As if to put emphasis upon his words he slipped the hand that he had been using to massage her leg, through the opening of her dressing gown and gave her slit a stroke with his fingertip. Molly gasped, her eyes dropping closed, her breath coming in little gasps as he continued to work his finger up and down her folds, but not slipping between them.

"Tsk tsk. So wet for me again, Molly?"

Her only reply was a soft whimper.

"I prefer being able to put my mouth on you as well." He noted as he pulled his hand out from the dressing gown and quickly undid the knot, pushing the fabric off her shoulder before dropping his head down to her breasts.

"Ohhhh..."

As he gave each of her breasts due attention with his mouth, he slipped his hand back down between her legs, this time sliding two of his fingers directly between her folds and into her welcoming center, dragging the pad of his thumb across her clit as he curved his fingers inside of her.

"Fuccckk!" She hissed.

She set her own hand to work, not bothering to undo the knot in his own dressing gown but instead pushing the fabric up over his thigh so that she could take his pulsing cock into her hand.

They worked each other into a frenzy for several minutes, both of them moaning, panting each other's names. Just as she began to feel the familiar tightening in her lower belly, Sherlock pulled his fingers out of her. He grabbed at her hand, taking it away from his cock, her juices on his fingers coating hers. The high that they were so close to achieving, ebbed away slightly as they lay there catching their breath.

Before Sherlock could do anything else, Molly grabbed up his hand and sucked her juices off of his fingers. He groaned at the sight. When she dropped his hand away he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her deeply.

As the kiss continued he moved his hand back downwards and lifted her leg up over his hip, before sheathing his cock in her wet, warmth. Molly gasped against his lips, bringing her own hand down to clasp at his arse cheek, pulling herself tightly up against him.

The pair of them began to move together, rolling their hips, speaking with their bodies in ways that neither one of them could ever speak in words. They parted their lips for air, Sherlock burying his face in her neck. Hot wisps of his breath brushed against her skin as he increased the speed of his thrusts. She was clutching tightly to him now, moaning his name repeatedly.

They came in unison, a feat they did not all too often achieve. She had cried out against his chest, her fingernails digging into his skin. Sherlock still had his face buried in her neck. He cradled her body against his; tucking both their dressing gowns around them so that the cool air of the room didn't touch their skin that was damp with perspiration.

Once he had done this Molly reached up, cupping his face in her hands before kissing him deeply. They sighed against each other's lips.

"I concur, this was much more intimate."

Sherlock smiled, humming his agreement before kissing her again. Molly let out a happy, exhausted sigh as she laid her head down onto his chest, "Well! What a birthday!"

She could hear his rumbling laugh, "Are you satisfied? Or do you want more?"

She gave his nipple a tweak through the fabric, "More?! I won't be able to walk tomorrow!"

He laughed again and brought his hand up to brush back several strands of her hair. Her eyes had closed.

"We should move back to the bed." He said to her.

"But the sheets are damp! From our shower earlier."

Sherlock grumbled, having forgotten about this, she opened her eyes.

"If you hadn't been so eager we could have dried off first!"

"Hush!" He silenced her with a kiss, "We'll stay here then, for now at least."

Molly laughed, bringing her hands up to his hair, his curls all mussed, "Lazy git!"

"Molly! We've just made love three times; I think I have every right to be lazy."

She smiled, "I'm only teasing you."

"I could always have Mrs. Hudson come up here and have her change the sheets!" He was smirking cheekily.

"No! Don't you dare!" She gave his chest a little pounding with her fists, "'Not your housekeeper!'"

Sherlock began to laugh, rolling himself until he was on top of her, Molly lying beneath him. She undid the knot, slipping her hands beneath the fabric so that she could run her fingers up his chest. They kissed again, their bodies nestling together.

Eventually they did make it back to the bed, changing the sheets before doing so. Sherlock was more of a menace then a help, repeatedly grabbing Molly for another session of snogging. How the man did love to kiss! Once the bed was at last made they slipped beneath the cool sheets and curled up together.

"Tired?" Sherlock murmured, his lips against her temple, his breath rustling her hair.

"Mmm ... exhausted and sated. Thank you for making this such a wonderful birthday. I don't know what I did to deserve so much attention!"

Sherlock tilted her head back so that she was looking up at him, "We barely ever saw each other all last month; we only had sex five times! But really... it's for putting up with me. Staying with me. Agreeing to marry me. Loving me. You're an incredible woman, Molly. You deserve to be worshiped."

Her face blushed bright red, "Gracious Sherlock, you make me sound as if I am some sort of goddess!"

He humphed, "You are not a mythical creature invented by the Greeks. You are a human being, with a knack for falling for sociopaths."

Molly shook her head, "You're not a sociopath in spite of whatever you may have convinced yourself to think."

Sherlock knew it was useless to argue with her so he said nothing. Silence fell for a time, their bodies tucked against each other.

"You know, I think you're in a bit of trouble." Molly's voice broke the quiet.

"Hmmm?"

She chuckled softly as she moved herself on top of him, allowing her breasts to press up against his chest in a rather delightful way. He was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"How are you possibly going to top this, next year?" Her tone was a teasing one as she spoke this.

With a growl he had her pinned beneath him, she let out a raucous laugh, the very one that he found so wonderful to hear.

"I'll think of something." He hissed, nipping at her shoulder blade.

"Mmm ... you do that!" She dragged her nails down his back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath her fingers.

* * *

><p>A week later Molly was sat upon the sofa with a novel, Sherlock had his head in her lap. His laptop was upon his stomach and he was tapping away at it madly.<p>

"How's the wedding planning coming along?" She enquired suddenly.

The typing came to a standstill; he turned his head to look up at her she was peering down at him from below her book.

"You've been shockingly silent about all of that, I'm rather surprised." She continued.

"Just working out some things first. I'm writing up diagrams right now, of the order I want to go in."

"Ahhh, like your sock index?" She had returned her gaze to her book and had placed her hand in his hair, working her fingers through his curls.

He sniffed, "It's a perfect way to keep things organized!" He explained, his tone falling flat.

"Oh stop sulking." She gave one of his curls a tug.

He resumed his typing and Molly continued to read.

"Will I have a say in anything?" She asked suddenly.

Sherlock shot up, closing his laptop, and turned around to face her, "Of course you will! Why do you think that you wouldn't? This is _our_ wedding."

She chuckled softly, "Just making sure! Sadly I don't have a wedding board on Pinterest, so you can't use that as a reference. Well I used to, but I deleted it shortly after Tom and I broke up." The moment those words left her mouth she regretted it.

Sherlock eyed her for a moment then placed his laptop on the coffee table before pulling her onto his lap, taking her book from her and tossing it alongside his computer. He held her in his arms, lacing his fingers together before bringing them to come to rest upon her hip.

"Did you really think he was your last chance?" His voice rumbled against her.

Molly had wrapped her arms about Sherlock's neck, holding onto him tightly, "For awhile I did. Every relationship I had ever been in never worked. So I … I decided to give up, accept the fact that I would eventually become a crazy cat lady." She laid her head on his shoulder, tilting her chin up so that she could gaze at him fully, "But then you had to barge in on my face mask night, tell me you love me and shag me into my mattress! Damn you for ruining my future endeavors of owning thirty cats!"

He smirked, "I think you should be thanking me, not cursing me."

She reflected his smirk, "Perhaps so. Thank you for finally pulling your head out of your arse and accepting the fact that love is not a disadvantage."

"Mmm, that's better!" He leaned down and kissed her then parted his hands, "So! Wedding questions! I think I have one I can ask you," He leaned forward and grabbed up his laptop, situating it so that it sat upon the top of her thighs, "Which do you prefer," He opened up a tab that he had yet to close and two pictures of serviettes appeared on the screen, "Swan or Sydney Opera House?"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**Hehehe! I struggled for a bit with how the hell to end this chapter, but then this idea hit me and I must admit, I practically cackled with glee! ;) **

**Hope you all enjoyed this ridiculously long chapter! I don't think the next one will be quite as long, but I can't guarantee anything.**

**I will try my hardest to update more often from now on! **

**Be sure to let me know what you think! I love hearing your thoughts! :D**

**Oh, and MizJoely and Pottermeg95, did you like what I wrote? ;) *wiggles eyebrows* **


	25. Swan or Sydney Opera House?

**Apparently I am incapable of writing short chapters! Ha! Oh well :-P**

**I had a bit of fun writing this one :D **

**Hope you all enjoy it!**

**Sherlock does something a Bit Not Good ... oh dear! What a shocker! haha!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty-Five – Swan or Sydney Opera House?<p>

* * *

><p>"Swan or Sydney Opera House?" Sherlock asked as he beckoned to the two images on his laptop screen.<p>

Molly didn't even take a second before giving a reply, "Swan! Definitely swan for the serviettes!"

The corner of Sherlock's mouth quirked, "Thought as much, you being an animal lover and all."

"Are you going to make these yourself? You can make napkin origami?"

Molly bit back her laugh as the tips of Sherlock's ears turned pink.

"And what of it if I can?"

"Oh, nothing! I just find it rather adorable! How did you learn?"

He mumbled something illegible as he opened up the word document he had been typing in earlier.

"Was that YouTube I heard you say?" She asked, bringing her hand up to the play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"Yes."

"You actually went on YouTube and watched videos of how to fold fancy napkins?"

"YES! It was for John and Mary!" He exclaimed loudly.

"Shhh …" Molly moved her other hand to cup his face, running her fingertips over his cheek, "No need to get so worked up, I was just asking that's all. What you did for them was very sweet. I'm sure that they both appreciated every bit of help that you gave them." She pressed a tender kiss to his jaw.

He turned his head slightly, bumping his nose against hers, "Thank you."

She laid her head on his shoulder, "Where do you think we should have the wedding? I don't entirely fancy the idea of marrying in a church, and I'm sure you don't at all."

"Wakehurst Mansion."

Molly hadn't expected him to give such a quick answer. Well, she hadn't exactly expected him to have an answer at all. She sat back up to look directly at him.

"Where?"

"Wakehurst Mansion, it's in West Sussex."

He tapped away at his laptop and brought up the website. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at the screen.

"Oh my God. That's … beautiful!"

"I thought you'd like it, mainly because it looks a bit like-

"Thornfield Hall." She finished for him.

"Yes, exactly."

She settled herself against him, "You sir, have an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what I would like."

"You approve then?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Even without going there first and seeing it in person?"

"Sherlock, it's perfect, it's beautiful. My answer is yes."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before opening up his word document and typing in the words 'Wakehurst Mansion' where he had specified 'Venue.'

"This is really happening, isn't it? We're really getting married!"

Sherlock stopped typing and turned to look at her, "Yes, _we_ are."

Molly couldn't stop the smile from coming to her face, "Do you have any idea how happy this is making me feel?"

He closed his laptop, placing it down beside them before clasping his hands together over her hip. He moved his body slightly, so that they were able to look at each other more fully.

"I think I have an idea." His smile reflected hers, "Molly, I must confess to you, I never thought or considered anything like this. I never wanted to be in a relationship, I always considered myself married to my work, but then you had to come into my life and change all of that." He gave her hip a slight pinch with his fingers, "I honed my mind to only focus on puzzles and mysteries, convincing myself that friendship and love would only slow me down and that all of _that_ was completely useless. I know I've spoken words similar to these to you before … but I just wanted to … thank you … for existing."

Instead of saying anything in reply to his sweet words, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. He tightened his hold on her as she twisted herself about so that she was now straddling him, her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips.

"I love you so much, Sherlock." She breathed out.

He touched his forehead to hers, their eyes locked, "I love you too, Molly."

* * *

><p>A murder case had taken Sherlock to the south-side of London. He was gone for three days. Normally he would hardly ever text her, much too busy being in his Mind Palace and searching for clues to solve the murder. But not so this time. He was texting her constantly, more often than not questions about their wedding.<p>

At first Molly found it to be slightly funny. But when he started to text her in the middle of the night it quickly became annoying. How the ridiculous man was able to both focus on completing the case and also think about their wedding was something she was certain she would never be able to wrap her head around.

She had to admit though, when she got the text telling her that he was on his way home she felt her heart flutter. The bed had been feeling too empty without him there.

Taking note of where he was coming from she calculated how long it would be before he arrived at Baker Street. She showered, and then lathered herself in the lotion that he had once told her he loved smelling on her skin. Could it be that the man had a scent kink?

The minutes ticked by, her body practically aching in anticipation at the thought of his return. When a thought came to her mind, she giggled wickedly. Fifteen minutes later the sound of his footsteps on the stairs filled the flat. She nibbled on her bottom lip, chuckling softly to herself.

"Molly?"

How was it that just the man's voice alone could send heat pooling between the apex of her legs?

"In the bedroom!" She answered him.

He strode down the hallway, coming to a standstill when he reached the doorway.

"Welcome home, Sherlock."

Molly was stretched out width-wise along the bed, entirely naked, leaning on her elbow with her head resting on her hand. His breath hitched in his throat. Her smiled widened as he stepped into the room and began to quickly undress himself. Once he too was entirely naked he got onto the bed and moved over to her. She tilted her head back, continuing to smile up at him.

"What a welcome this is!" He murmured, before dropping downwards to press his lips to hers.

She sighed into the kiss as it grew in passion, slipping her arm about his neck. He wrapped his arm around her waist, clutching at the small of her back as their tongues fought for dominance. The hard points of her nipples were pressing into his chest.

"I've missed you." She whispered against his lips.

"Missed you too." He replied, before kissing her deeply again, pressing his entire body against hers, his erection bumping up against her stomach.

He pulled away from her, breathing heavily, "One moment." He kissed her lightly then moved off of the bed and went to shut the bedroom door.

Molly had sat up, watching him as he returned to the bed. But instead of climbing back up he stood at the foot of it. He tapped on the edge with his fingertip, and then beckoned to her.

"Come here."

She smiled again and moved towards him. She was kneeling. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again.

"Lay down … on your back." He instructed.

She did as he asked, and he grabbed her about the hips pulling her closer to him, until her bum sat at the edge of the mattress, her legs hanging over. The tip of his cock brushed against her pelvic mound, she whimpered, desperate for him to be buried inside of her.

He spread her legs wide apart, lifting her thighs until they were pressed against his hips. It was then that he entered her, knowing that she was wet and ready for him. His movements started out slow, slipping into her only halfway before pulling himself out.

Molly cried out in frustration, knowing how much he enjoyed teasing her like this. She threw her head back, clutching at the sheets when he nudged her clit with the head of his cock.

"God Sherlock, stop, please! I want you inside of me! Please!" She hated him for making her beg, and yet she also loved it. It was a strange sort of game that the pair of them both enjoyed playing.

He thrust into her then bottoming out completely, his bollocks coming to rest against her.

"Yes! Oh!" Her knuckles grew white as she clutched at the bed sheets even tighter.

His pelvis was pressing directly against her clit. She was moaning and sighing happily as he thrust into her over and over. As he began to increase the speed of his thrusts, he tilted his hips ever so slightly so that the tip of his cock hit against that lovely little spot inside of her that made her moan like a wild animal. He dropped his head down and mouthed at her breast, lapping at her nipple with his tongue. Just as he grazed it with his teeth he came to a sudden standstill.

"Sherlock?" Molly sounded worried.

Without a word he reared back and slipped his cock out of her.

"Sherlock!"

Molly shot up, watching as he moved about the room, obviously looking for something.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"One moment, Molly."

With a loud huff she pulled herself up the bed, before throwing herself back down upon the mattress, her head hitting the pillow as she clamped her legs shut and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Unbelievable." She muttered beneath her breath.

Sherlock found what he had been looking for, a thick black leather-bound book. He flipped it open, grabbed up a pen and began to write something down. Within moments he was finished and returned to the bed, his still hard-cock bouncing slightly from his movements, it glistened in the faint light.

Molly was glaring at him. He hesitated, looking off to the side for a moment.

"Not ... Good?" He questioned slowly, returning his gaze to her.

"Yes. Not Good at all. WAY more than a Bit Not Good! What the hell was that all about?"

He dropped himself down beside her, his cock now beginning to soften, "I had a sudden idea come to me, for the wedding, I knew that if I didn't write it down straight away I'd forget it."

Molly blinked at him, "You never forget anything, unless you choose to delete it."

Sherlock looked away from her again, "Yes well ahh, that is true. But I've come to find that when I'm with you, _in you_, my mind becomes blank, all I can think of and focus on is you, how you feel around me, how you make me feel, the noises you're making. Other thoughts tend to drift in from time to time, but once I orgasm, I've forgotten what they were. I knew that if I didn't write it down, I'd never remember."

Molly stared up at the ceiling, "So what you're saying is that you have mind-blowing orgasms?"

Sherlock let out a snort, "As completely inaccurate and impossible as that phrase actually is ... err yes."

She let out a giggle; "Well that's quite a compliment ..."

Sherlock looked at her, hopeful. Her gleeful expression quickly changed back to a serious one.

"If you ever do anything like that again I swear I won't shag you for an entire month, possibly two."

He swallowed thickly, "I won't."

"To hell with if you forget whatever blasted idea you come up with. Pulling out of me like that ... please don't ever do that again."

He curled up against her, nuzzling her neck, brushing his nose against her ear, "I won't." He repeated, placing a kiss upon her throat, "… you're wearing that lotion …" he noted then sighed against her, "Did I …?"

"Ruin the mood?" She finished his sentence for him.

"Mmm."

"No."

"Oh!"

She splayed her hand out on his chest, pushing him until he was flat on his back. She straddled his thighs, taking his now flaccid cock between her fingers. With an impish grin she shifted herself down until she was straddling his knees, before leaning forward and taking his cock between her lips.

"Mmmm…" She moaned softly around the tip, as she lapped at him with her tongue, before taking more of his length into her mouth.

Sherlock had dropped his head back onto the pillow, his chest rising and falling, grunts escaping from between his lips. Within no time his cock returned to full hardness. Molly released him from her mouth, leering up at him with a Cheshire Cat grin.

"That is quite a delicious combination, your cock and my juices!" She gave the tip a gentle kiss before pulling upwards, holding herself steady directly over him.

Sherlock lifted his hands up off the mattress, placing them about her waist. She had splayed her hands out onto his chest, tipping herself forward slightly before sinking herself down onto his cock.

She gasped as he became nestled inside of her, rocking her hips slightly. Sherlock's fingers dug into her skin, a groan coming from deep within his chest, as she began to truly ride him.

"Molly, my Molly!" He was chanting her name.

She tilted herself further forward, not slowing her movements on his cock, so that their lips could meet. His hands were on her arse now, guiding her up and down him, lifting his hips off the mattress. She cried out, the joint movements of their bodies tipping her over the edge. She was trembling against him; he held her close, as he continued to thrust up into her until he too came with a cry of her name upon his lips.

He continued to cradle her in his arms as they both slowly came down from the high that they had just created together. Molly was the first to move, sliding her hand up and over his chest.

"Mind blown?" She snickered.

He let out a loud humph in reply, only causing her laugh to increase. With a low growl he rolled her onto her back, the pair of them moaning when they both realized that he was still inside of her. She lifted up her legs, locking them over his lower back, making certain that he couldn't pull out of her now. His hips involuntarily moved forward, making them both moan again.

"Damn you and your stamina!" She murmured against his lips as he kissed her, he was smirking looking a bit too pleased with himself.

She dug her fingers into his hair, giving the curls a little pull. He growled again. Tilting his body back slightly, he shifted his hips. He kept himself buried inside of her as he moved onto his knees before he dipped his head down and latched onto her breast, giving her left nipple a not-so-very tender bite with his teeth. She gasped, then let out a hiss as he repeated the same action with her other breast. Both nipples were now stiff, aching peaks. He flattened his tongue against her left breast, dragging it across in one direction, then the other, before moving to her other breast, bathing each nipple in the warmth of his tongue, soothing the tender flesh.

He was nibbling at the underside now, nuzzling her with his nose. Sherlock didn't know why exactly (and this somewhat bothered him), but he was completely fascinated by this particular area of her soft, rounded flesh. Judging by the noises Molly always made when he paid attention to her here, she too enjoyed it as much as him. He didn't pull away from her until he had left a red mark upon each.

Lifting up his head he brought his mouth back to hers, gasping when she gave a buck of her hips, moving his nearly-hard cock inside of her.

"I think your stamina matches mine." He nipped at her bottom lip, rocking his hips against hers, loving the sensation of growing fully-hard inside of her.

"Do you think – oh! – do you think we'll ever grow tired of this?" She gasped out.

"Hmm? Of shagging? No. Your body feels too wonderful; I could never grow tired of this, of us, together like this."

She hummed in agreement, arching her back slightly as he began to slowly thrust. He had one hand on her hip, the other pressed into the mattress by her head. They alternated between kissing, moaning and sighing, as their bodies moved together once more. She had been clutching to his shoulders with both hands, now she removed one and slipped it down between their bodies to swirl her fingertips over her clit.

Sherlock swore loudly, loving it when she did this while she was lying beneath him, her knuckles grazing the patch of wiry hair directly above his cock. He kissed her hard, increasing his speed.

He felt her walls shuddering around him, clenching his cock; he gave three more thrusts before following her into the abyss. She unlocked her legs, allowing them to fall bonelessly to the bed. He slipped himself out and collapsed beside her.

Several minutes later, when their rapidly beating hearts had returned to a more normal tattoo, Molly rolled over onto her stomach and looked at Sherlock. His eyes were closed but she knew that he wasn't asleep; he was more likely in his Mind Palace, filing away each moment of their most recent lovemaking.

She reached out and gave the tip of his nose a tap with her finger. His eyes flew open, his gaze meeting hers.

"Are you going to share with me what your idea was?" She spiked her eyebrows.

He smiled slightly, moving himself closer to her, "Sure. I came up with the colour scheme."

"Oh?" She draped her arm over his chest, brushing her nose against his shoulder, "What is it?"

"Yellow."

"Yellow?"

"Yellow." He repeated.

"Why yellow?"

He moved his head so that it was more at a slant, giving him a better view of her face, "Because of the way you look in that colour."

"You like me in yellow?

"Mmm."

"I hardly wear it."

"John's wedding."

"Oh … my dress. You liked my dress?"

Sherlock shifted so that he was lying on his side, before giving her temple a kiss, "I did. I even liked that ridiculously large yellow bow that you had in your hair."

Molly chuckled, her breath tickling across his skin. Sherlock was stroking her back, his hand slipping further downward, tapping her bottom with his fingertips. He stopped suddenly, bringing his hand back up to brush her hair away from her face. He wasn't looking at her, but instead was staring off into the distance.

"You stabbed Tom, with a fork." He spoke this almost flatly.

"Saw that, did you?"

His eyes moved to look at hers, "I always see you."

She moved her head, looking away from him, brushing the sheet with her nose.

"Why did you do that?" He asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Her eyes flew back up to meet Sherlock's, "He thought you were drunk. It made me mad; I knew that you were trying to figure something out, something important."

"Something else happened at that moment, didn't it?"

Molly nodded, her gaze falling back down to the bed, "I realized that I could never marry Tom; that I wouldn't ever be completely happy with him." She slowly raised her eyes, her chocolate ones meeting Sherlock's ocean-green, "If I couldn't have you, I didn't want anyone."

He sighed, exhaling slowly before tucking himself close up against her, "There are times when I wish that you didn't love me as much as you do."

Molly leaned back in order to look up at him, "Why do you say that?"

"I don't think I'll ever stop believing that I'm not good enough for you."

She let out a sigh of her own, resting her forehead against his chest, "Then I am going to spend the rest of my life trying my hardest to convince you that you are!"

He cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her up so that he could press his mouth against hers in a tender kiss, "I am grateful for that. You are quite a stubborn woman."

She smiled against his lips, returning his kiss, "No more stubborn than you!"

* * *

><p>Molly was busy at work; conducting an autopsy with an intern when her text tone pinged. She ignored it, annoyed with herself that she had forgotten to silence it. As the minutes continued to pass, it pinged several more times.<p>

"Aren't you going to check that, Doctor Hooper?"

"No, it's all right Alex, it's probably nothing."

As Molly finished speaking her phone pinged again, her gloved hands stilled.

"Perhaps I will have a look at it, carry on Alex, you're doing very well." She stepped away from the body and snapped off her gloves, tossing them into the nearby bin before pulling her mobile out of her lab coat pocket. There were six texts from Sherlock.

Guest list. Have you thought about who you want to invite? – SH

Molly? – SH

Molly, this is important! – SH

Why aren't you answering me? – SH

I know you're at work, but your patients are dead, it's not as if they are going to go anywhere. – SH

Molly's mouth twitched at the realization that Sherlock had in fact tried to crack a joke.

Please answer me, I'm getting worried! – SH

Her eyes widened when she read his last text, it was only sent two minutes ago, but in Sherlock-time that practically meant two hours. If anything he was probably on his way to St. Bart's to make sure she was all right. She quickly typed out a hasty reply.

Sherlock I'm fine! – Mx

I couldn't reply to you because I was elbows deep in a chest cavity teaching an intern! - Mx

His reply came almost instantly.

I'm on my way. – SH

Molly sighed, resting her head in her hand, knowing that it was futile to argue with Sherlock. She glanced at the time.

"Alex, why don't you go take your lunch hour? We can finish this up later."

"All right, Doctor Hooper."

Molly covered the body they had been working on and awaited Sherlock's arrival. Not even five minutes later he marched into the morgue.

"Sherlock I told you! I'm perfectly all right!" Her voice was muffled by his coat; he had pulled her into his arms and was holding her close.

"Don't scare me like that!" The words almost stuck in his throat.

Molly tilted her head back and looked up at him, "Scare you? The great Sherlock Holmes, scared?"

"When it comes to you being safe, yes."

She brought her hand up and brushed it over his cheekbone, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." She stood on her tip toes and gave his lips a gentle kiss.

He deepened it, pulling her more tightly up against him; she let out a squeak against his mouth.

"Sherlock, you're practically crushing me!"

"Sorry." He loosened his hold slightly.

She brought up her other hand, moving her fingertips back and forth over his cheekbones, "It's ok, I'm here, there's nothing to worry about. I'm not going anywhere." She whispered softly to him.

His forehead was resting against hers as he sighed deeply.

"I'm about to go eat lunch, join me? We can eat in my office." She said him.

He silently nodded, and at last released her from his embrace. As they walked from the morgue she felt his hand on the small of her back. Once they had gotten food from the canteen they made their way back to her office.

"Done with the case then?" Molly asked him as she sat in her chair, nodding towards the food he had gotten.

"Yes. It was a five, ridiculously simple." He grabbed a nearby chair, pulling it up alongside hers.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, until Sherlock broke the silence.

"Guest list, do you know who you want to invite to our wedding?"

Molly laid down the sandwich she had been eating, "Yes well ahh … I don't really have many people to invite."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, "No family at all?"

She shook her head, "There are a few cousins, but none that I'm very close with. You know that."

He shrugged slightly, "Yes, but I thought perhaps there would be someone."

"Well, there_ is_ Meena; she'd kill me if I didn't invite her. Actually I want her and Mary to be my bridesmaids. I could invite Mike – Stamford- but I doubt he'll come; he didn't go to John's wedding. In all honesty though, I think it's going to be mainly people from your side. "

Sherlock scowled slightly, "It would seem so."

She ignored his annoyed expression, "Do you have a list?"

"Mmm." He took his mobile from his pocket and handed it over to her.

Molly scrolled through the list he had made, "SHERLOCK! You don't have Sherrinford on here!"

Sherlock's scowl deepened, "Why should he be invited?"

"He's your brother you twat! He's family! You're inviting Mycroft, why not Sherrinford?"

Sherlock exhaled loudly, "Fine. Add him to the list."

Molly shook her head as she typed in Sherrinford's name, "You really are unbelievable sometimes." She muttered this under her breath, "There." She handed him back his phone.

Sherlock took it, stared down at the list for a moment then pocketed his mobile.

Molly picked up her half-eaten sandwich, "Is John going to be your best man?"

"Of course."

"Have you asked him yet?"

"No-ooo."

Molly rolled her eyes, "Why ever not?"

"I thought that perhaps he would just assume; that he would know without my needing to say anything."

She turned and gave Sherlock a weary look, "You hadn't a clue that he was going to ask you!"

"That was different."

"No it wasn't."

Sherlock humphed.

"Ask him soon. And don't do it like you did when you told him we were getting married."

Sherlock leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yes, mummy."

Molly let out a chuckle, "Mmm that reminds me, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Can your dad be the one who gives me away?"

Sherlock fiddled with the napkin he had been folding, "I don't think he would mind."

Molly put her sandwich back down, "What is it?"

Sherlock didn't look up at her, "Your father … do you think he would have approved of me?"

"No."

His eyes shot up to meet hers.

"Not at first. He would have hated you, as most people do when they first become acquainted with you. But when he came to realize how much I loved you, and how happy you made me, and saw that you loved me too, he would have eventually come to like you, very much."

"Good-good to know."

Molly laid her head down on Sherlock's shoulder, covering his hand with her own, stopping his fidgeting with the napkin.

"I have another question."

"What is it?" He turned his hand so that their palms pressed together.

She laced her fingers with his, "The other night, you went and wrote in a big, black book. What is that?"

"Oh, that. It's our wedding book."

"Wedding book?" She leaned her head back slightly so that she could look at him.

"Yes. I've been writing down everything about our wedding."

"I thought you were doing that on your laptop and what about up here?" She reached up and gave his head a tap with her fingertip.

"Hard drive."

"What?"

"My brain is a hard drive. It's not permanent, there's no physical evidence. I wanted something more enduring. And what I have on my laptop is more so a diagram."

"Oh. Can I see the book, look at it?"

"Someday."

"Someday? Why not now?"

"It isn't finished yet."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You are so annoyingly cryptic sometimes."

He gave her a cheeky grin, "I know!"

* * *

><p>A week later Mary came to Baker Street to discuss the more womanly aspects of the wedding planning with Molly; John had come with her, carrying little Emily in his arms. She wasn't quite so little anymore though. She had been toddling about for some time now, giving both Mary and John barely a moments rest when she wasn't napping.<p>

Molly had been giving Sherlock distinct looks for the passed few minutes. He knew exactly what those looks meant. She wanted him to ask John to be his best man. Just as he opened his mouth to speak his text tone went off.

"It's Geoff. He needs help with a case." Sherlock's eyes widened with excitement as he read the rest of Lestrade's text, after pocketing his phone he went to grab his coat "John? Aren't you joining me?"

John looked at his wife and she gave him a nod, he stood up and went to grab his coat that he had only just taken off a few minutes early. Sherlock was exclaiming with unrestrained glee that the case was most certainly a nine. Mary and Molly had both exchanged knowing looks, shaking their heads at their silly men.

Once they were both gone Mary went upstairs to settle Emily for a nap in John's old room, when she came back down she looked about the place for the first time, "Wow, you've ahh, really gotten into the whole wedding planning!"

Molly grimaced slightly, "Oh, all that." She gestured to the multiple piles of Wedding magazines that were placed about the entire room, "They aren't mine, they're Sherlock's."

Mary blinked at her, "Oh dear. Has he driven you absolutely mad yet?"

"Mmmm, no. But I am definitely getting close. How on earth did you and John survive it?"

Mary snorted, "Well actually he really was a massive help. It was just rather, ahh, slightly disturbing how into it he was, how good at all of it he was! The man could have his own business!"

Molly laughed, "Yes, I could see why you'd say that. What he's come up with so far is actually quite beautiful!" She turned and looked at the wall behind her, the wall that was usually covered in case files and clues, but was now littered with wedding things, "He hasn't stopped taking cases yet though, as you very well know, I suppose that's because we're still months away from when the actual wedding will take place."

Mary nodded in agreement, "Yes, that's definitely it. Just you wait until you hit the one month marker, May is when you've set the date for right? Mm … yes, he'll go into full wedding mode, won't take a single case, not even a triple murder."

Molly eyes widened with fright, "Oh dear God. I might just murder him myself if he gets to be that bad."

Mary leaned forward, "If you ever need a break don't hesitate to pop in, we'll be there for you, John and I!"

"Thanks. I'll definitely keep that in mind!" The worry that had been etched upon her face, faded away slightly as she spoke these words.

Mary sat up straighter, "So, the wedding dress! Any ideas as of what you want to wear?"

Molly nibbled on her bottom lip, "Somewhat … I don't … I don't really want to wear a traditional wedding dress. You know, pop into a bridal shop and pick out a dress that a million other women will be wearing as well. I want something unique, different."

Mary smiled, "I had a feeling that's what you were going to say. Were you thinking of something vintage perhaps?"

"That is a consideration; I just don't really know where to look."

"All right, we'll get to that! What about style, design …?"

"Well, I love watching Period Dramas, the dresses they wore then were beautiful; the empire waist is so pretty. I'd love a dress like that!"

Mary rubbed her hands together with glee, "Give me five minutes! I think I know of something perfect! Exactly what you would want!"

Molly blinked in shock as Mary took her iPad from her bag and began to tap away on it. A few minutes later Mary let out a pleased, little chuckle and held out the iPad to Molly.

"What do you think of this?"

Molly's mouth dropped open, her eyes widening, "Mary, oh my God, this is it, this is what I want to wear … how?" Molly tore her gaze away from the beautiful dress to look at her friend, tears pooling in her eyes.

Mary gave another chuckle, "Sherlock's not the only one who can read people! I know what you like Molly. I've been doing a bit of a research whenever little Emily is napping. I know you've been busy with work, and I'm pathetically idle when Emily isn't occupying my time so … I started looking about online. I only just came across this the other day, but I had a feeling that you would really like it. And the best part is, it's entirely handmade, and it's the only one; there won't be any other's made like it."

Gently setting down the iPad, Molly wrapped her arms about Mary, "Thank you! You're such a fantastic friend! Here I was worrying that I would never know what I wanted, or how to even find it! Thank you so much!"

Mary returned the hug, "I'm glad to be of help! I had a lot of fun, searching the internet … but oh my goodness, there are a lot of hideous dresses in existence! I don't know what goes through some of these designers minds!"

Molly laughed, wiping away the few tears that had fallen, "You have no idea how relieved this makes me feel. I really was very worried."

"Well now you don't have to be! One less thing to think about!"

Molly gave her another hug before she stood up from the sofa, "Would you like some tea? Meena should here in a little bit; I can't wait to show her the dress!" She padded towards the kitchen.

"Tea would be great!"

Just as the kettle began to boil the doorbell rang.

"You get the door Molly, I'll handle the tea!" Mary said as she entered the kitchen.

"Thanks Mary."

Molly made her way downstairs to answer the front door. Meena squealed with delight as soon as she saw Molly.

"You're getting married!" She exclaimed, pulling her friend into a tight embrace.

Molly laughed loudly, "Yes I am Meena! You've known this for a while now!"

"I know, I know, I just enjoy acting like a daft cow sometimes! This is exciting!"

The pair of them made their way upstairs. Mary had the tea set out on the coffee table when they walked in. After the hellos were exchanged the three women settled down onto the sofa.

"So … your wedding dress, have you two found one yet?"

Molly nodded, unable to keep a smile from coming to her face, "Yes I have! Mary found the perfect dress! It's gorgeous! Here, have a look!" She grabbed up Mary's iPad and brought back up the photo.

Meena's face held the same shocked expression that Molly's had shown, "Oh my bloody God! This is beautiful! Mary, kudos to you for fantastic taste!" She continued to gaze at the photo, "Thank goodness Sherlock didn't take over this end of the wedding! Could you imagine having him pick your dress?"

Molly laughed, "Clearly you don't know Sherlock as well as I do! He would have picked out a perfect dress, I'm sure of it. The man has impeccable taste."

Meena shrugged, "Perhaps so, he definitely knows how to dress himself! Damn those tight trousers of his!" She wiggled her eyebrows wickedly.

Mary let out a snort into her tea.

Molly gave her friend's shoulder a slight shove, "Hey, watch it you! That's my future husband you're talking about!"

"Why are we drinking tea? We should be drinking wine!" Meena scrunched up her nose as she took a sip.

Molly rolled her eyes, "It's not even in the middle of the afternoon, and we have important business to attend to! We need our heads to be clear!"

Mary nodded in agreement, "She's right you know, you don't want to end up wearing some gaudy, chartreuse bridesmaid dress now do you?"

Meena's eyes widened in horror at the thought, "Tea's fine. Ta."

"Yes, so, bridesmaid dresses! Since the colour scheme of the wedding is yellow, I thought perhaps a nice, soft grey would be nice. The men could be in grey suits as well."

Mary thought for a moment, "Yellow and grey, I like the thought of those two colours together, very nice!"

"Anything but chartreuse please!" Meena spoke around the rim of her tea cup.

Molly stood up and began searching about the room, "I saw a couple of dresses in one of Sherlock's magazines that he bought. Where is it? I hope he didn't move it, the bloody git. AHA! Here it is." Molly grabbed up the magazine and returned to the sofa, "They are conveniently at a shop in London, I already checked, what do you two think?"

"Oh Molly, I never knew you had such impeccable taste."

The shove Molly gave to Meena's shoulder was none all-too gentle this time.

"Kidding! Kidding! But really though, these are very pretty! I'd say the first dress, Mary, what do you think?"

"Definitely the first dress, I love the neckline."

"Perfect! Wedding dress and bridesmaid dresses all in one day! I feel very accomplished!"

Meena and Mary shared a glance, both of them smiling widely.

"What, what is it?" Molly asked, looking from one to the other.

"There's something else that you can say you've accomplished, well … we've accomplished." Meena noted, with a tiny hint of smugness in her voice.

"There is?" Molly spoke this slowly, looking very confused.

"Yes."

"What, what have you accomplished?"

"The Hen Night." Meena declared.

Molly's eyebrows shot up, "Oh. I forgot about that."

Meena all but cackled, "Well the two of us haven't." She beckoned between her and Mary, "We've been discussing it for some time now, and we finally decided what the three of us are going to do to celebrate it."

Molly looked slightly nervous, "You have?"

Mary clasped her hands together before excitedly announcing, "We're taking you to Paris!"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**I came up with the Hen Night idea in Paris quite awhile ago ... that's going to be fun to write ;)**

**Oh yeah, before I completely forget! That whole 'Not Good' moment with Sherlock and stopping mid-shag to go write something down ... haha, I got that idea from a post I saw on tumblr ... it was a gif of Mike and Sully from Monster's Inc singing 'Put that thing back where it came from or so help me!' Anyway, someone had wrote text above the gif and it said "when a guy is giving you good dick and suddenly pulls out" ... yeah, my mind works in crazy ways :-P I found it to be hilarious and thought that it would be a very Sherlock-like thing to do ... yes? Do you agree? Disagree? **

**Be sure to let me know what you think! **


End file.
